Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?
by Darkeyes17
Summary: Complete, G1: Sticky! We have seen the Prowl in heat stories. Here's one with Jazz. Our favourite saboteur is in heat, and bots are going to know it. Jazz/various, eventual Jazz/Prowl- fluffy epilogue added
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: HELLO ALL! This is another request fic, but I am really liking it. After all, we always see those stories where PROWL is the one in heat. Well…what about if it's JAZZ? This story isn't going to go on for more than about 10 chapters, maybe less. It's a ****sticky fic****, so you are warned. I got my inspiration for some of this stuff from various 'heat' stories, so if it seems like I'm copying, I'm sorry, and I'll try to fix it. You all know that I don't own Transformers. Ok, here we go!**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?" <strong>

**Chapter One**

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><p>Ratchet tiredly answered the door that interconnected his quarters to the medbay, wondering who on Earth would be disturbing him at this time at night. If it was a medical emergency, then granted, but if not, who would dare and incur the medic's wrath?<p>

What he didn't expect was Jazz, his TIC, trembling from helm to pedes with his interface panel open and lubricant trickling down his white thighs.

"R-ratch…Ah've been feelin' hot all day…n…n-now it's getting' real bad," Jazz said, his voice uncharacteristically wobbly as it took all his strength not to throw himself onto the ground and beg for a spike, a toy, fingers, _anything_ that would get rid of this…it had started this morning, with a hot ache in his hips and groin, and was now throughout his whole body, particularly his interface systems and his spark.

Ratchet only had one word.

"_Slag!"_

"Ratch…it's bad…r-right?" asked Jazz, nervously clutching his own upper arms while pressing his legs closer together to alleviate some of the ache throbbing in his valve.

With a low, growling sigh, Ratchet replied, "Jazz…you're in heat."

The saboteur tilted his helm to the side and asked incredulously, "Heat? Whaddaya mean Ah'm in Heat?"

"You are going to be interface crazy until you produce a sparkling or until the heat cycle wears out. You will most likely hop from berth to berth to satisfy your needs, eventually settling on the one who can settle your needs the most. Your Spark Energy Modulator (SEM) is off, so when you do find the mech you want to kindle with, if theirs if off too, then you will create a sparkling. Remember, you are in heat, so you can spark just by transfluid, but by the mechs having their SEM's on this cannot happen…so what I'm going to do is…mmmppff!" the medic was interrupted in his rant by a pair of desparate lips covering his and beginning to kiss the life out of him. He caught the smell of something erotic and sweet, and he immediately shut off his olfactory sensors. It wouldn't do to be enraptured by the heady smell of the lubricant. He was going to grant Jazz relief, nothing more.

Didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

Sweeping Jazz into his arms, but keeping their mouths connected, Ratchet walked them over to a medical berth. Placing the squirming, heated martini racer on the berth, he quickly got the restraining straps and secured Jazz's arms and legs to the berth. He looked up into Jazz's face at the sound of a long whine, and smirked.

Jazz's visor, which was usually a bright, cheerful azure colour, was now darkened to a seductive sapphire. His mouhplates were open as he panted, chassis heaving up and down while the dim lights of the medbay reflected off his shiny black and white plating. The lust from the heat had now completely taken over the sociable mech, and he whined again, bucking his hips up and down on the berth, his fluids staining the sheets beneath his gorgeous black aft.

Ratchet chuckled at the sight and whispered huskily, "Jazz, Jazz, only you could give me a processor ache and make me smile at the same time."

Jazz panted loudly, his only thought was on his valve. Empty, it was _so empty!_

He opened his mouth and babbled, not realising what he was saying, only that he was begging and pleading, his cooling fans working hard to cool him unsuccessfully. "Ratchet, Ratchet, please, Ah need ya in meh, need ya fillin' me fulla transfluid, Ah need ya spike, ya hand, ya glossa, something! C'mon mech, Ah need it, Ah'm empty, Ah need ta be full…oooohhhh, please! Call everyone, Ah need their fluid all over meh…uuhhhnnn…please!"

Ratchet's optics opened at the delirious, dirty talk from the pouty lipplates of the saboteur, and it was turning him on something fierce. The mech on the bed was not the Jazz they knew, it was a lust filled _animal_.

Realising that Jazz needed to be sated, he leant over the berth and plunged his glossa into the slicked up channel, trying to lick up as much of the warm, sweet lubricant as he could, listening to Jazz's keens as he was finally touched the way he wanted to be touched. The medic moaned into Jazz's valve as it clenched, slippery, around his glossa. He had never felt his glossa been so squeezed by a valve before and he sucked and nibbled at as many pleasure points as he could. Jazz needed release, and he needed it now.

Jazz keened louder still as Ratchet slipped two fingers into his valve, starting a fast pace that made him cry out. He felt _so_ good, the friction in his valve appeasing the heat within as nodes were vigorously stroked and lapped against, sending pleasure shooting through his body in hot waves.

Ratchet kept going, stretching that pretty valve, adding another finger to hear Jazz's lust filled cries of ecstasy.

Jazz couldn't help it. He had been feeling too aroused all day and overloaded in bliss, his throbbing valve tightening against the digits and the glossa within him, releasing even more lubricants out of his valve with his climax. Ratchet lapped up as much as he could, revelling in having brought the first mech to be in heat for over 10 million years to his first overload (in heat).

Jazz began to purr, content for now, smiling down at the medic – who had his juices spread over his lips – before dropping off into recharge.

Thinking quickly, Ratchet injected a sedative into an energon line, hopefully giving Ratchet enough time to knock Jazz out so he could let Prime and Prowl know later that morning. It would not do for Jazz to go around the Ark, horny and obsessed, without _someone_ knowing about it. That, and also to put out a notice to make sure every mech on the ARK had their SEM's on and up to date.

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><p>"What do you mean Jazz is in heat?" blurted Optimus Prime, plopping into his massive desk chair in surprise, staring at his CMO as if he had just grown and extra head.<p>

"I mean, Prime, that his heat systems have somehow been activated, and he won't rest until he either sparks up or until his cycle winds down," said Ratchet.

"So…you mean…?"

"Yeah Prime. Jazz is going to be a horny little petro rabbit for a while, prepared to get any facing he can," replied the medic with a sly smirk at his leader's gobsmacked faceplates.

Prowl was looking like someone had smacked him in the face. He tried to regain his sense and sound professional and asked, "Do we know who his preferred…ah…mating buddies are?"

"Jazz hasn't been with anyone in a while, and that I know because of his medical check-ups, but in his state of arousal – which comes with being in heat – he will either go to the mechs who are his friends and confidants, or those that, if he sparks, will give the best attributes to his sparkling. I have a few general ideas, and I hope they are smart enough on how to deal with a mech in heat. Prowl, can you send around the message of the SEM's?" asked Ratchet, explaining all he knew. Optimus still looked shocked.

The Praxian mech nodded. But Ratchet saw a glint in the tacticians optics, one he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Uhh…Hey Ratchet?" asked Wheeljack over the general comm. "You know how you asked me to check up on Jazz? Yeah…well…the thing is…he's gone from the medbay."

The three mechs looked at each other at the same time and cried out, "_SLAG!"_

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><p><strong>AN: Mwuhuhhahaha! That's right, horny Jazz is on the prowl…(lol!). I got a rough list of characters who Jazz is going to be fragged by, before he finally ends up with a certain favourite character of mine ^^ but if someone has a suggestion, I'll see if I can work it in. AND PLEASE REVIEW! I AM A GLUTTON FOR REVIEWS!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: WOW! That was the most amount of reviews I have ever received for a chapter! I thank all of you: femme4jack, Gatekat, Thecrazygirlnextdoor103, Got Buttermilk, Yume95, Kaekokat and MissCHsparkles. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you all, and I appreciate your ideas and may be using one or two. YOU KNOW I DO NOT OWN TRANSFORMERS! Ok, here we go!**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?<strong>

**Chapter Two**

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><p>Jazz crept through the halls of the ARK, wondering why they were so empty…empty, like his valve.<p>

Ratchet had definitely helped, but then the tightness and heat had come back full force as soon as he had come out of his recharge. He had gotten out of the restraints (somehow, he couldn't remember and he didn't really care) and had gone on a search, a search to find the next mech. This ache, this wonderful and terrible ache in his abdomen and spark that drove him on, but he didn't know who would satisfy him the most.

He let out a small whine as he felt the lubricant that had been building behind his panel leak out along the seams. He had to find someone now!

He saw a door just down the hallway…a door he knew well, a friend who could never refuse any request he made.

Jazz grinned fiendishly, crept to the door, hacked the code and slipped in. This was going to be good.

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><p>Blaster sighed, walking out of the rec-room.<p>

Optimus Prime had gathered all his men to make the announcement that Jazz, social butterfly, sneaky saboteur Jazz, was in heat. Heat! Something that hadn't been heard of since before the start of the war. They had all been warned to keep their SEM's on, just in case if they did interface with Jazz. And it was a high chance for most of them. After all, who could resist being friends with Jazz? And Jazz would surely seek his friends out.

Now all anyone could do was wait and see.

Blaster was glad his cassettes were looking after Spike while Bumblebee was needed here. He could only imagine how traumatised if, for example, Jazz had…er…accosted him with his creations in his chest, he would rather not have them see what he had to do to grant Jazz some relief. And if Jazz came looking, Blaster would readily give it. Ratchet had told them that a mech in heat, if he does not overload, will actually overheat and go into stasis lock. And Blaster had no desire to do as such to Jazz.

Palming open the door of his quarters, he stopped in shock from the irony. _'Well, think of the devil!"_ he exclaimed to himself.

For there was Jazz, on his berth, facing the door with his legs spread wide to reveal the slick folds of his valve, lubricant trickling to pool on the space below on the berth. His mouth was set in a coquettish smirk as his hands held his knees spread for Blaster's viewing pleasure. His whole stance screamed '_Come and get me, big boy.'_

Blaster took a stunned step inside the door, and caught the most appetising smell – hot, tangy and sweet, the smell of the purple lubricant Jazz was producing.

"Blaster," Jazz purred, flexing his legs out and spreading himself wider. The boom box watched in fascination as the outer mouth of the valve rippled. He breathed in the smell of the lubricant and he was gone. With a flirtatious growl, Blaster stalked across the room to his berth, making Jazz shiver in delight at the reaction, and leaned over the black and white. Hovering, but not quite touching. He ex-vented heavily, sending a gust of hot air playing over Jazz's sensitive plating. Jazz emitted a soft whine, staring at Blaster pleadingly from behind his visor.

Grinning, the orangey mech leaned down to whisper in his audio, "What do you want me to do, Jazz?"

"Please," begged Jazz, wiggling his hips from side to side, "Ah want ya in meh, bangin' Bot."

Blaster sent another surge of air, this time a little hotter, over Jazz's frame - and replied, "I would be _delighted to._"

Jazz let out a short, sharp cry as Blaster ran his hands firmly over his sides and under his aft, sending little jolts of ecstasy through his frame at the touches. Oh, how he'd wanted to be touched! He arched, feeling Blaster's hands slip down his lithe body and down his glistening thighs, resting at his knee joint, before he felt them be forced up and apart, displaying Jazz's valve fully to him. Licking his lips, Blaster released his spike, feeling it pressurise, and deftly sank into the waiting valve.

Jazz mewled. It felt so good, so right to have a spike in his valve, and he reached his hands up blindly to hook them around Blaster's neck, pulling him down in a searing, heated kiss. Blaster groaned, feeling Jazz rapidly clench down on his spike uncontrollably, showing how far gone he was. He began to move, grinding deep before pulling out slowly and driving back in, grinding their arrays slowly in a friction filled, slow burn. Legs wrapped around his waist and held tight, pressing on his backplates in a bid to make him go harder, faster.

Shifting so his hands were now holding Jazz's shoulders in place, Blaster made one final slow thrust, and then began to rock harder and faster obligingly, his length sliding in and out as his pace got more rapid with each stroke. He bit at Jazz's neck, hearing his keens of pleasure and it spurred him on, each delicious thrust eliciting a moan or some sort of similar cry from the saboteur beneath him.

With a hiss, Jazz, bucked his hips, wanting more, needing more, helpless to do anything but ride the sensations ripping through his frame – stemming from the pleasure in his valve. He buried his helm into Blaster's warm neck cables, feeling the scrape of his chestplates against his own, and the light clanging sound as their hips met.

"Nn..nn…ahhnnn," whimpered Jazz. He was close, so very, very close.

"Sexy little Jazz," Blaster teased, hearing the wet sounds of him thrusting repeatedly into Jazz's warm, sticky valve.

Jazz rippled his valve, stimulating the ridge of Blaster's rigid spike. The cables tightened the walls almost impossibly tight, making the boom box climax with a shout, burying his spike down to the deepest point as the valve milked him for his fluid.

The rush of searingly hot fluid triggered Jazz's own overload and he threw his helm back, wailing without restraint as he overloaded heavily, grasping on to Blaster's shoulders with all his strength, fingers squealing as they chipped off paint. Light exploded in his optics as pleasure assaulted him from every direction, and he slumped on the berth, sated – if only for now. He pressed a few kisses to Blasters helm and slipped into recharge.

Panting heavily, trying to control his breathing, Blaster smiled a bit bashfully down at the sleeping mech. Jazz had been so open, so passionate. He couldn't believe that he had just fragged his best friend! But it was enjoyable nevertheless. Sliding his now limp length out of Jazz's valve, he watched as strings of lubricant still connected him to the wet, stretched rim, which trickled a mix of his transfluid release and Jazz's own sticky climax. He chuckled slightly as, in his recharge, Jazz moaned and rubbed his thighs together, smearing the fluids on his white thighs. Gently nuzzling Jazz's sensory horns, he laid down beside him and settled down to watch over Jazz until he left and went on his search for a mech once more.

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><p><strong>AN: Um...review? /**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Are you ready for this? Thank you again to all my reviewers, it means a lot. You know the disclaimers and blah blah blah...**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter Three**

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><p>Inferno gasped as he was pushed against the wall of his quarters roughly by an overly amorous Jazz, who was rubbing up against him and groping at his panel, his mouth pressed to his shoulders and mouthing on the metal there.<p>

"Jazz! Jazz, wait, ya know I'm bonded ta Red!"exclaimed the fire truck, trying to get out of Jazz's strong grip.

Jazz whined in response, and straddled a thigh and grinded against it, trying to entice Inferno into facing him. Frag the fact that he was bonded, didn't Inferno see that this is what he needed? A nice, thick spike to impale him, make him beg, make him scream. He nibbled harder, rubbed his body more seductively, anything to make Inferno take him, and take him _hard._ The saboteur was so caught up in his haze that he didn't notice the door cycle open to reveal Red Alert standing there, arms crossed and his optic ridge arched questioningly.

"Red!" Inferno gasped, struggling to pull Jazz off him.

"Inferno," Red Alert said, tapping his foot.

"Red, I couldn't help it, 'e just came on ta meh," the bigger red mech protested, his body stilling in his shock and guilt in his bonded finding him pinned by the mech in heat.

"'Ferno...why didn't you call me? You can't have him all to yourself," the security director said, sauntering into his shared room and approaching his bonded and Jazz.

Inferno's jaw dropped. "Red...wha'?"

Red Alert smirked, coming up behind the still grinding saboteur who was still pawing at Inferno's codpiece. "Lover, I might not have said this, but I don't mind sharing...as long as I'm here too," the smaller red mech purred, trailing a hand to circle one of Jazz's sensory horns. Jazz turned his attention from inferno's broad shoulders to press back into Red's light touch, panting in delight. He rubbed his closed panel against Inferno's thigh even harder, finally opening it and revealing his warm, moist valve. He rubbed again, spreading lubricant along the strong crimson thigh.

Inferno looked down, feeling the warm fluid on his limb and looked at Red Alert, who was openly grinning now, moving his mouth to Jazz's horns and flicking his glossa out at them. _This_ was new, seeing Red so confident with someone other than him – and considering that Inferno had been Red's only lover, that was saying something. It showed he had learned well. And it was also quite a turn on, seeing Red Alert bringing pleasure to another. Inferno felt relieved at Red's reaction and began to participate again, transforming his hose hand into an actual hand.

Jazz tilted his helm so his face was looking at the ceiling and moaned loudly. Red Alert knew how to touch his horns! His mouth was now slowly sucking on them, circling the base before swirling up to the tip. And Inferno's large, heavy hands were sliding over his lust-wracked frame, over sensitive seams, lines and curves. They were warm, sending his sensor nodes spinning with anticipation.

"I've neva double teamed a mech before," muttered Inferno, kneading Jazz's hips, feeling the heat emanating from his crotch area not much lower.

"Then it will be a new experience for both of us," Red Alert mused, coming up for air from Jazz's sensory horns.

Jazz shivered in delight. How would they do it? One in his valve, one in his mouth? Or both in his valve? Or one in his valve and one in his aft port? The possible positions they could be in streamed through his processor and his knees weakened at the racy thoughts, and he collapsed forward onto Inferno's broad chestplates, his hot breath fogging the truck windows. Red Alert and Inferno shared a steamy gaze before the bigger mech lifted the black and white mech, hauling him to the berth and settling him down, Red Alert trailing behind him, watching the both of them in amusement.

"Mmm, 'Ferno?" asked Red, coming up behind his bondmate and stroking his heated crothplate.

"Yeah Red?" Inferno replied, smirking at the vaguely frustrated look on Jazz's face as he shifted his hips impatiently.

"I want to take him," he whispered in reply, nuzzling Inferno's backplates affectionately.

The bigger mech turned around and wrapped his arms around his smaller bondmate, considering. Maybe he should. After all, Red Alert had never really experimented, innocent mech he had been, and maybe it would be a good idea. The thought of him watching as Red thrust into a panting, moaning Jazz tingled his circuits. "Well-"

"Ah don' care! Ah want one of ya in meh now!" Jazz cried. He had a finger in his valve and was sucking on another one, desperate to have pleasure.

The bondmates chuckled and Inferno kissed Red Alert lovingly before saying, "Go ahead love. I can't wait ta see ya."

Red Alert grinned happily up at his handsome mech, before turning around to the whimpering saboteur, a predatory look coming over his faceplates. Jazz shivered again, wondering what the private security director was like in the berth. A jolt coursed through him, and some more lubricant slicked his heated channel.

"Hmm, whatever should I do with you?" Red Alert chuckled, seeing Jazz's valve opening. The smell hit him, and he groaned softly. No wonder mechs in heat were rare, even before the war. They smelt too good to be resistible.

Jazz huffed impatiently, "Somethin' involvin' ya spike in mah valve'd cut it."

Red Alert and Inferno chuckled together, before the smaller mech ordered softly, "On your knees Jazz, and spread your legs please, I want your valve to invite me in."

Both Inferno and Jazz trembled in desire at the words. Never had Jazz heard the SD so cool and collected, and Inferno got a kick of hearing that tone of voice that he only ever heard in the privacy of his quarters. Sensing what his bondmate wanted, the fire and rescue mech shifted onto the berth near Jazz's helm. Jazz was now on all fours, aft and bared valve facing Red Alert, who was staring at it curiously and appraisingly.

Jazz whined again. He was going to be really desperate in a second if Red Alert didn't do something to him _now_. The tightness and the burn of heat in his abdomen was beginning to hurt a little bit, needing to be soothed by a good hard interface.

He suddenly felt something at his entrance, and he cycled air through his intakes faster, giving a little moan of encouragement. He felt as Red Alert's fingertip traced around the rim of the valve, once, twice, three times before finally sinking in, teasing his sensor nodes as he went and rubbing little circles once his finger was completely buried in Jazz's burning heat. He was about to let out a little whine, but felt something warm touch his lips, and he looked up to see Inferno had scooted closer, think length released from his spike housing and standing to attention. Jazz smirked and without any hesitation, sucked the flared tip into his mouth.

Inferno let out a hiss as he felt the wet mouth around him, a glossa lapping at the slit in the tip. It felt good. It always did when there was a mouth on your spike. He looked up to see Red Alert insert another finger into Jazz, making the black and white hum appreciatively around the spike in his mouth, sending bolts of pleasure through Inferno's circuits.

"Oooh, he's wet 'Ferno," murmured Red Alert, releasing his own spike from behind his panel and housing, guiding the tip to where his fingers were slowly stretching out the valve, leaking lubricant down Jazz's thighs in an erotic sight.

Inferno couldn't reply, as Jazz was no vigorously deepthroating him, bobbing up and down as if it was the last thing he would ever do. He laid a hand on Jazz's helm, stroking the sensory horns and groaning as the sensors on his spike were stimulated delectably.

Red Alert grinned at the pleasured look on his bondmates face. Like this, with another mech between them, he could study Inferno more closely. And he liked what he saw.

Jazz purred, feeling those fingers moving inside him, preparing him for what was to come. He hummed around Inferno's spike again, feeling a bit of prefluid coat his glossa. He moaned again, drowning in the seemingly endless pleasure he was giving and receiving.

But his musing was halted as he slipped the spike out of his mouth as Red Alert finally removed his fingers and slipped his spike in, going in nice and slow, circling his hips around so he could get Jazz to be nice and loud as pleasure data overwhelmed his senses. The smaller red mech let out a long, low moan as Jazz's valve rippled up and down his spike in waves.

"Ya look gorgeous Red," Inferno said thickly, trying to speak coherently as Jazz used his rather talented mouth and was kissing up and down his spike, letting out little intermittent cries of pleasure. Red Alert's spike was sliding in and out a little, and Inferno could see the purple lubricant already coating his lover's lenth. Primus, it was sexy.

"Nnn…yeah Inferno, he's so tight…Primus," Red whispered, pulling out and then in again, setting a nice, even pace, dragging his member over the hidden nodes in the sucking valve tightening down on him, on the smooth, rigid metal of his spike.

Jazz couldn't hold back his noises that he was making as he rocked back into Red Alerts thrusts, he aft hitting the smooth plating of the SD's thighs and hips. He was sure he was going to have more paint chips on him, but he couldn't care, not when he was being fragged, the heat within his abdomen pooling lower and building strength, making his circuits zing with anticipation. He was almost limp with the pleasure, but placed his mouth over Inferno's arousal and began sucking again, drawing him in deep and swallowing, wanting to entice the overload, wanting to taste...

He wailed around the spike as Red Alert and Inferno, in tandem, revved their engines hard, sending vibrations ripping through his body, ratcheting his lust up even more. Red stroked a little faster, bucking his hips up so his spike rubbed against Jazz's upper sensors, his sweetspots.

"Yeah…c'mon Jazz, take meh down deep," Inferno grunted, trying not to buck and choke Jazz with his girth. Heat or not, bruised throat tubing still hurt.

The saboteurs darkened visor winked up at him, and he sucked with all his might as Red Alert continued to rock steadily into him. Oh he was close, and it would be _sssoooo_ good if they could overload together. He tightened his valve as the spike milked him for lubricant, he could feel the warm stickyness escaping from his valve and into the seams and his legs.

Inferno was the first to come, the heat around his length too much to handle, and his hips abruptly twisted and jerked, making Jazz choke just a little as fluid rushed down his mouth, tasting rich and creamy. He pulled off a bit, allowing the last few trickles to coat his lips. Looking up at the panting, large mech, Jazz slowly licked off every last drop of transfluid clinging to his lips and grinned.

"Frag," hissed Inferno, petting Jazz's horns.

"Ooh, ahhn, Primus please!" Jazz moaned. He was close, he was gonna…he was gonna…

With a sudden small scream, Jazz overloaded around the spike still stroking evenly on his sensitive nodes, more lubricant flowing out and gushing around Red Alert's pumping spike. Red Alert's face screwed up in pleasure as the wet heat spurred him on, making a few more jerky thrusts before he too, was spent, but pulled out, watching as his transmetal fluid spattered on the attractive black plating of Jazz's aft and on the rim of the clenching, sopping entrance.

Jazz lay on all fours, panting and trembling for a few minutes as he let the aftershocks of his overload disappear, before he let out a happy purr, stretching like a feline and showcasing his post-overload valve to Red Alert who was still behind him. He then slowly reached up to kiss Inferno's neck, and then turning to nuzzle Red Alert's as well before sliding off the berth (his movements a little stiff), winking at the bonded pair before slinking out of their quarters, lubricant and transfluid flowing freely down his legs and onto the floor.

"Wow," muttered Red Alert, looking out after the black and white mech. That was different. And intense.

"Yeah…how'n Earth is Jazz still wantin' fer more after _that?_" questioned Inferno, guessing that Jazz had gone off to seek another mech.

"Mmm…" hummed Red Alert, crawling up the berth to rest in Inferno's arms, "I knew Jazz was in heat, but for him to come to us?"

"Yeah. I know."

"Well, I did enjoy it. Not the same as being with you," murmured the smaller mech, pressing closer to his lover and pressing a soft kiss to his delectable lips, "but, if I had to have a face with any other mech, it would have been Jazz. Because he's just so easy going and re-assuring."

A hungry look appeared in Inferno' optics and he drew Red Alert in to a passionate, glossa-tangling kiss. Breaking off and seeing Red Alert's dazed faceplate, he grinned and said, "Yeah, I enjoyed it too, but…if I asked if you wanted to go fer another round…wha' would ya say?"

With a breathless sigh and a light giggle, Red Alert replied, "Oh Pit yes."

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><p><strong>AN: How'd ya like that one? Did I make it too laborious? I didnt want _every_ interface hard, so next one is going to be a hard one, don't you all worry. Now, who should it be...the twins? Mirage or Ironhide? PLEASE REVIEW! THEY ARE LIKE MY CANDY AND CHOCOLATE!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE KIND REVIEWS! I thought it was funny how some of you liked Red Alert being the spiker and some would have preferred Inferno. It made me think, but I don't regret my choice. And I do have to apologise for this chapter. I said it would be hard and rough and all that delicious naughty stuff…and…well, as someone pointed out…Mirage doesn't really do it rough. BUT NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE! You all know my disclaimers and the blah blah blah.**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 4**

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><p>The tall blue spy made his way to one of the lesser used hallways of the ARK, where there was a few storage rooms and that was about it. But Mirage sought a small box holding some private, key things he had taken from the Towers before their destruction. Reaching the desired storeroom, he input his code and the door slid smoothly open. Stepping in, the F1 racer scanned the room, finding his box in a far corner. With a satisfied smirk, the blue mech quickly opened it and peered inside. Everything was still here. Perfect.<p>

Walking calmly down the hallways again, he was stopped by a soft gasping and panting. Closing his optics and focussing on the sound, he guessed the sound originated back a hallway, in another one that was rarely used. Curiosity piqued, Mirage followed the sound. It grew louder and louder as he stode along.

He turned into the hallway and stopped stock still at the sight of his commander, panel open and his whole _hand_ buried in his valve as he panted and gasped, his helm tilted back against the wall and his visor dark with lust.

And lubricant was flowing seemingly everywhere, it seemed like Jazz had overloaded himself many times to no avail. Mechs or femmes in heat needed another to stimulate the deeper nodes for the heat to wind down.

The smell! '_Oh my Primus,'_ Mirage thought. The smell of fluid hung thick in the air, heady, sweet and overpowering his olfactory sensors. Unwillingly, Mirage licked his lips, the smell doing things to his body he'd never felt around Jazz before. He felt aroused and hot. He looked down at the box he held, and then back at the whimpering saboteur, who had taken his hand out of his valve and was licking his hand clean. He smirked. It must have been fate as to why he had felt the urge to get this box today.

Making a little whistle, the spy almost laughed as Jazz looked up in a flurry of movement and crouched before him, optics behind his visor taking on a pleading gaze. Black hands were grabbing his hips and Jazz's exhalations were felt on his codpiece.

Amber optics lighting playfully, Mirage muttered, "Hmm…whatever shall I do with you?"

Jazz said nothing, but his glossa peeked out from his pouty lips and delicately ran itself over the centre seam of Mirage's crotchplate.

Mirage smirked at the pure wanton look on his commander's faceplate, before delving into the box he held and pulling out a long, thin rod, looking at it affectionately before leaning down to trail the tip of it over the ridge of Jazz's nose. Jazz breathed out over it, the heat in his exhalations causing a few drops of moisture to bead on the rod. Mirage chuckled. It had been one of his favourite interface toys as a younger mech. He had located his box of interface toys for an occasion such as this.

With a soft hum, his electro disrupter clicked on and he turned invisible, making Jazz whine, but he tapered off when he realised that Mirage hadn't moved, but was still tracing the black metal rod across Jazz's horns, circling their tips. Jazz leaned into the touch.

Mirage took in another deep intake. Oh he could almost _feed_ off that smell!

The now-invisible mech moved the rod down the side of the saboteurs face, across his chestplate, sliding it over the abdominal plates radiating heat, and to the open panel. Flicking a small switch on at the base, the rod hummed, vibrating gently. Jazz purred in a low tone and leant back against the wall again (valve bared), watching as the rod, looking increasingly odd as it was held by an invisible hand, circled above his anterior node, not touching, but holding all the promise of that touch. And Jazz knew Mirage. If he moved, or bucked up in any way, he was sure that the pleasure he so wanted, so _needed_, would disappear before he could blink. Instead, his engine let out a high, needy rev, telling Mirage exactly how he felt.

Deciding not to tease for too long, the blue spy sank the tip of the vibrating rod into the drenched valve, twisting it slowly as he pumped it leisurely in and out. Mirage was fascinated with the reactions he was pulling from Jazz. His faceplates were morphed in pleasure, and he was biting his lips to keep from whining any more than he had. He was trembling minutely, the heat stemming from being _in_ heat coursing through his energon lines.

Tempting to say the least.

The TIC spread his legs wider, his valve seeming to suck in the rod, and looked up at his best spy pleadingly. He. Needed. More!

Licking his lips, the noble leaned down, hearing Jazz gasp at his invisible touch, and laved his glossa in a broad lick over the opening of his valve thrusting the pleasure rod in at a nice even pace. At the taste, Mirage's processors ran rampant and wild.

But then he pulled his face away from that tempting scent and stopped thrusting the rod, burying it only halfway in. Jazz made a chocked gasp and wriggled. Mirage made a tutting sound and withdrew a bit so Jazz wouldn't feel him at all, a sly smile on his face as he watched once more as Jazz struggled not to beg. With a fingertip, he trailed a ghostly touch over the black hip plating, tracing the seams that led to join with his chestplates.

He couldn't believe it. He was right there like a buffet and Mirage was _teasing _him! Why? It was unfair to be so wanting and not receiving. Jazz panted, breath so heated it was forming mist in the air. It was achingly good, those light touches. Now pressing along his bumper, swirling around his sensitive headlight. He couldn't take too much more and finally uttered, "Please."

Mirage stopped touching altogether and quickly darted a look down and saw that Jazz was wet enough, so he retracted the rod – making Jazz mewl at the loss – before he retracted his panel and immediately sank his hard spike into the heated channel.

"AAahh! Oh yes!" hissed Jazz. He reached up, searching for the invisible shoulders of Mirage and finding them, latching on and curling inward, so that their foreheads touched together, their breaths intermingling.

Mirage held still, just accustoming himself to the fact that this was _Jazz_ who was clenching hard around his spike. It felt, in a way, unreal, like this was some sort of abstract fantasy that felt too tangible. But he could feel. Feel that wonderful, perfect tightness drawing him in, coaxing him to move and take Jazz right there in the corner of the wall and the floor.

And he moved. He drew out slowly with a whispered, "Nnn…hhaa."

Perfection. At its best.

The spy controlled himself. He was not going to be like some organic and rut away till overload. No. He was going to do it right. Sliding in and out of that wonderful steamy grip around his member, Mirage closed his optics, focussing on the pure feel of the interface, loosing himself in the slick sounds of his spike in his commanders valve. He could hear Jazz's whimpers and moans as he dove between the wet folds repeatedly, raking sensually over each pleasurable node and sensor.

"Mir-aaaagge," Jazz gasped out, clinging ever tighter to that lithe, invisible body. Looking down, all he could see was the outer folds of the valve moving to and fro with the invisible length, his opening a stretched hole. It was sexy and divine.

"Nn…nn…that's right, say my name," the spy whispered.

"Mirage…ooohhh, make me oh-o-overload!" Jazz wailed as Mirage plunged completely within and circled his hips, pushing at the lining of the valve, rubbing delectably against the sensor-laden walls.

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><p>In the security room of the ARK, the only light coming from a single ceiling light and the flickering monitors, the whole interaction between the invisible spy and the heat-laden saboteur was watched and recorded.<p>

By Prowl.

Red Aler had taken the day off for 'personal reasons' and Prowl had graciously filled in.

He was ever so glad he did.

The SIC was watching that singular screen with unhindered interest. He had locked the door, and his piercing light blue gaze was fixated on the picture of Jazz, his faceplates flushed and expression alive with pleasure as the invisible Mirage 'faced him. It was fascinating to Prowl how Jazz had gone from the cheerful, yet dangerously clever saboteur to the horny sex kitten in heat. The Praxian's doorwings gave a hard twitch as Jazz's mouth opened in a howl. And Prowl heard it…he had the audio feed turned up loud enough. His held in his arousal. This was a show…nothing more…for now.

For when Jazz sought him out (and he would seek him out, no doubt), Prowl would finally do what he had been meaning to do ever since they had woken up on Earth...confess his feelings.

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><p>Mirage smirked as Jazz let out that howl. A few more nice thrusts and they'd both be gone, toppling over the edge and into the deep abyss of pleasure. Who knew that he'd overload Jazz in the middle of a hallway? He didn't care, only that this was intense and felt so good. Jazz was like a vice around him, jerking into his thrusts as he cried out.<p>

Letting out a hiss, Mirage felt as the tip of his spike caressed the saboteurs sweet spot, stimulating it nice and hard. Jazz's ebony hands had found the small of his back and were pushing insistently, trying to make him go harder. Mirage leaned forward and breathed over his sensory horn, "No. I do it my way."

Those words only dragged Jazz further to the brink, and he spread his legs wider to accommodate Mirage, the new angle of his legs allowing him to feel every line and cable of the smooth spike within his valve. The achingly even pace finally built up to its last cliff and Jazz fell over, lubricant cascading down his valve, letting a garbled wail out in tandem with Mirage's groaning of his name.

"J-Jaazzzzzzz," Mirage groaned in bliss, hearing Jazz's cry of release and in turn collapsing in his own release, silver transfluid coming out in spurts in Jazz's valve, making the walls tingle in post-overload. When the last recesses of pleasure drained away, Mirage became visible, and Jazz gave him a bright smile and pecked him on the lips, before abruptly falling into recharge. Mirage smiled down gently at the sight. Although his spike was still buried inside Jazz's sticky valve, and there was fluid evidence of their activities leaking out from their nether regions, there was a certain innocence to the black and white visored mech in recharge.

"Insatiable," the blue mech scolded affectionately. Jazz had done too much for him as a commander and would have his loyalty forevermore because of it. Pulling out carefully and cleaning himself and Jazz up (smirking again as Jazz mewled softly in recharge), Mirage lifted Jazz in his arms and held him bridal-style, carrying him to his quarters, typing in Jazz's general code and placing him back on the berth.

Stepping back and watching Jazz recharge for a few moments before returning to his own quarters, Mirage couldn't help but be satisfied with the faint intermingled smell of his transfluid and Jazz's lubricant, but also wonder…who was the horny saboteur's next prey?

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><p><strong>AN: Hey femme4jack…were your kids awake this time? ;) PLEASE REVIEW EVERYBODY! Oh...and by the way...yes...Mirage does have a box of kinky interface toys. **

**NEXT CHAPTER!: How about some bondage? ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: WHOO-HOO! I LOVE MY REVIEWERS! This was a faster update than I expected to get it out by. Anyway, as promised, this one is harder than the other ones ;) You all know my disclaimers and the blah blah blah…**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 5**

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><p>Jazz was tiptoeing quietly through the halls, wondering who he should seek out next. For some reason, everyone was on patrol today or working on other projects outside the ARK, so it didn't really leave him much choice. He'd already been fragged by Red Alert, so he didn't want to go back for a second go, he wanted something new! His fans kicked up a notch. He was feeling over heated again.<p>

Clicking open his panel, he felt as the cool air generated through the ARK caressed his throbbing, hot valve like a lover's touch. Biting his lips to keep in his sigh, Jazz relaxed a little.

Faint footsteps were heard behind him. The black and white mech didn't move, but smirked and tilted his helm to the side. According to those set of footsteps, that mech would be…

A soft sack was thrown over his helm unexpectedly, and he squealed and giggled. Strong arms picked him up and slung him over a warm plated shoulder. Oh, so they wanted to play like this did they? But he didn't care. The direction they were walking in continued to confirm who the cadence of those footsteps belonged to.

Sunstreaker.

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><p>The golden twin smirked as he entered in his code for his quarters. Sideswipe would surely be as pleased as he is. Snagging Jazz had been entirely too easy – but then again, it was the heat that would have made Jazz be as eager as a petro rabbit. Stepping in, the golden mech was greeted by the wide, slag-eating grin of his twin.<p>

"Nice Sunny. You even wrapped up my present for me," Sideswipe grinned, lifting a hand to flick lightly at the sack covering Jazz's helm.

Jazz wiggled around on Sunstreaker's shoulder. Were they going to tease him like Mirage? He didn't think he could take that, he wanted to be fragged until he was wailing so loud the Decepticons would be able to hear it!

"This isn't wrapped," Sunstreaker growled.

Jazz was suddenly thumped down onto a berth, his hands wrestled behind him and cuffed together by a pair of…fluffy handcuffs? He still couldn't see, but felt the soft restraints. But the hands on him were firm, pushing him down so his hands were cuffed behind his back and his aft was up in the air but his helm was on the berth. The sack was ripped off and a gag filled his mouth, muffling his startled cry. His visor finally adjusted and he saw the twins in front of him, mischievous grins on their faces, which were alight with lust.

"Now _that_ is wrapped," purred Sunstreaker.

"Mmm…oh he smells good Sunny. Imagine that lubricant dripping onto our lips, swallowing mouthful by mouthful," Sideswipe replied, tone deeper and distinctly seductive.

Jazz's optics widened behind his visor at the thought. His valve gave a shudder as he imagines two writhing, slippery glossas batting against every sensor node he had. He gave a muffled whine and jiggled his aft, spattering a few drops of lubricant on the berth. With a low chuckle, Sideswipe moved forward, lapping forward at those escaped drops and savouring them. Through his twin-bond he said, '_Oh Sunny, he tastes like the richest and most sinful high-grade…ever! Want to have a taste?"_

Out loud, Sunny replied softly, "As if I could never say no to you."

Jazz let out a sexually frustrated cry as he watched Sunstreaker meld his lips to Sideswipe's, their mouths open and hungry as they shared the little bit of lubricant lapped up from the berth. This was worse than what Mirage had done to him, this was a painful tease. But he kept his optics fixed on the twins, who were touching each other so sensually. They knew each other so well as if it was their own bodies and it made Jazz slightly envious. He wanted to be touched! He let out another frustrated yell, bounding a little on the berth to draw attention. Lubricant had flowed out of his valve and was liberally coating his thighs. And with his hands cuffed, he could do nothing about it.

Sideswipe broke the kiss and looked over at the appetising sight of Jazz, heated with extreme arousal and lubricant flowing freely. He licked his lips and then groaned as his brother bit at a cable in his neck and clicked open his interface panel, his spike jutting into Sunny's open palm.

"I want to see his mouth on you," whispered the golden mech, "and then I'm going to photocapture it and paint it after our fun."

Sideswipe hissed as the pressure of Sunstreaker's hand went away, but he manoeuvred on to the berth at Jazz's helm, kneeling and removing the gag, easing his spike into the slick, open mouth. All three mechs groaned. Sideswipe placed his hands on the black helm below him, guiding him up and down his spike slowly at first, and then building to a fast steady rhythm. Jazz moaned, making the sound vibrate around the length in his mouth to make Sides gasp and shudder. Little streams of oral lubricant coated the spike as it slipped in and out, and also dripped out of the corners of Jazz's lips, stretched over the smooth length. There was a click, and Sunny saved the photo capture in his databanks. Looking at the visual, the more volatile of the twins smirked. _Primus_ it was hot. Sideswipe's faceplates were flushed and his face was slack with pleasure, while Jazz's lips sucked on his twins piece.

Sunstreaker opened his own panel, staring down at his rigid and erect spike proudly, giving it a few firm, fond strokes before moving behind Jazz. The view was…magnificent. The valve edges were rippling and drenched. Dipping his finger around the rim, Sunstreaker licked up the lubricant on his finger, rewarding himself of another taste of the heady, rich fluid. Jazz's aft wiggled impatiently.

Laughing, the golden mech gave two firm smacks to the temping, curved black aft, making Jazz cry out around the red mechs spike. Sideswipe panted, "Make him do that again Sunny! His mouth is so good…like a first rate pleasure bot."

Jazz purred. Mmm…he couldn't wait until Sunny finally stuck his spike in. He knew that the twins regularly interfaced each other and could usually hear Sideswipe's cries of '_Sunny! So big!'_

No sooner had the saboteur thought it when Sunstreaker, without any preamble, eased himself in to the steamy depths of his valve.

"Frag," hissed the golden mech, keeping still to let the smaller mech adjust to his considerable girth.

Jazz wailed loudly again, but still managed to keep Sideswipes throbbing length in his mouth, sucking on the tip hard like an energon pop. But his valve was shooting bolts of pleasure throughout his frame as the wonderfully thick member inside him filled him from his entrance to the top of his valve. He was shaking in arousal and bucked his hips back. A warm frame pressed over him and whispered in a sinfully delicious tone, "You want more, little Jazz?" Sideswipe pulled his spike back for long enough for Jazz to gasp out, "Yes!"

Sunstreaker chuckled, winked at his twin, pulled back slowly…and slammed home. Jazz screamed in delight as the spike began to deliciously assault him, thrusting in almost brutally fast, sending his whole circuitry system on fire from the sensations. Through his scream, Sideswipe thrust his own spike back into the wet mouth, making Jazz gag slightly, oral lubricant dripping down his chin, but he swallowed Sideswipe to the root, still crying out though muffled as he was. Hands were on his black and white frame, stroking his sensitive places and teaking the wires, ratcheting his lust up even higher. The golden mech was thrusting, changing the angle that his spike hit the different nodes of his valve with every thrust. A faint ringing noise heard with every clang of his hips to Jazz's aft – golden yellow paint streaks were left on the back of that black aft and the white thighs. It overwhelmed the black and white mech, and with a hard shudder, he overloaded, lubricant almost spraying out with the force that Sunstreaker continued to thrust with.

Through Jazz's wail of completion, Sunny leaned over and tweaked a few wires above his twins spike, making Sideswipe climax into Jazz's mouth with a harsh shout.

Sunstreaker stopped, buried within the clenching, searingly hot valve, and waited for Jazz and Sideswipe to regain their senses. Sideswipe pulled out surprisingly gentle and replaced the ball gag over Jazz's mouth, wiping away the trickle of his transfluid that had trickled down Jazz's chin. "Swallow," the red mech crooned to the bound one, and Jazz nodded, savouring the smooth, yet tangy taste of the red twins release.

"Make him kneel, Sides," Sunstreaker growled affectionately.

Sideswipe suddenly grinned, catching on to his twin's idea through the bond and hefted Jazz up so he was kneeling between them, hands trapped between his back and Sunstreaker's abdominal plates. In a word, he was sandwiched. Sideswipe took a moment to take in Jazz, whose chassis was heaving with every intake and displaying his attractive body, and was quivering with more arousal, his expression coy. He couldn't help himself. Leaning down, Sideswipe lapped his glossa where the valve lips stretched over Sunny's thick spike, making Jazz writhe and Sunstreaker smirk, before pulling back.

"Do you think he can handle both of us?" Sideswipe asked, tracing a teasing hand over his brother's sensitive helm vents.

"Of course. Mechs who are in heat…apparently their valves have a lot of stretch," the golden mech purred back at his twin.

Jazz writhed again, but this time in anticipation. They were both going to take him, make him feel so good, so stretched, so hot and desired. He felt his valve release another rush of lubricant, preparing him for the double entry. Sideswipe kept touching both Jazz and his twin with one hand, stroking his half-masted spike with the other, getting it nice and hard to enter Jazz with. He shuttered his optics just for a moment and imagined the feel of his spike rubbing up against Sunny's within the confines of that tight valve.

Opening his optics shutters, Sideswipe removed the gag again (completely) and pulled Jazz into a heated, smouldering kiss and slowly, inch by torturously slow inch, penetrating Jazz alongside his brother. Jazz threw his helm back to the ceiling and gave a high keen.

"I like the sounds he makes," Sideswipe chuckled, shifting his hips to bring them flush against Jazz's pelvis.

"Mmm, it could be a song," replied Sunstreaker through gritted teeth. The valve had been tight before, but now it was even tighter, clenching down on him in a sticky caress. His twins hot metal was creating a delectable friction against his own.

"AAaaaaahhhh," moaned Jazz. His valve felt over-full, but it felt wonderfully intense as well, having two spikes rub over his nodes, hitting his hot spots with each shift of their hips. Jazz could only imagine what it would be like when they both were thrusting into him.

"Want us to move, take you nice and hard with you in between our bodies?" teased Sideswipe.

Jazz nodded, his legs spread wide of either twin and arms bound behind him, completely helpless and unable to do nothing but prepare for the torrent of pleasure awaiting.

Each twin latched their mouths to a sensory horns on top of Jazz's helm and began sucking lasciviously on them in time to their slow thrusts. Sideswipe would pull out, Sunstreaker would push in, and all Jazz could do was gasp and moan. As his valve adjusted to the slightly uncomfortable stretch, Jazz found himself bucking in their hold, wanting them to go even faster, like Sunny had before.

"PRIMUS! AAhhhhhhhhh," Jazz screamed, stars exploding behind his optics as the twins picked up their pace abruptly, thrashing their hips into him in a co-ordinated rhythm, making him bounce on their laps.

"Slag, he's tight," Sides muttered, now lapping at Jazz's neck cables.

"Frag it…feels too good," growled Sunny, biting down on one of the sensory horns, making Jazz give a hard buck and another little scream.

The wet and sticky sounds filled the room, and Sunstreaker got one of his hands to heft one of Jazz's legs up higher, spreading him obscenely wide and continuing to pound into that glorious heat at the juncture of the saboteurs thighs. Warm lubricant ran down their thrusting spikes, smearing down their thighs to create a wet puddle beneath their panting, heaving bodies.

Jazz went limp, riding the pleasure. The twins were talented, making the pleasure shoot through his lines in a non-stop steam of lust. His valve was singing with pleasure as the two spikes took him with long, hard, firm strokes, hitting the sensors nodes and setting them on fire, hot, burning fire. He was making so many sounds, gasping and panting, moaning and wailing, and occasionally letting out sharp cries and keens.

Sideswipe was groaning with every thrust, and Sunstreaker was panting and growling, his artists hands gripping onto his hips tightly.

The passion built, and built, and built, indescribable heat pooling in their abdomens, lust streaking along their systems on their way to climax. Their plating was burning hot from their exertions, and with a final, simultaneous thrust from the twins, they all overloaded, warnings ringing in their HUD's, pure, unadulterated ecstasy lancing through them all. Hot transfluid burst out of the twins spikes, overflooding the valve, running down the lining to drip out of the opening, silvery coloured and stickier than the lubricant. Jazz's valve had released more lubricant than had thought possible and the berth sheets were now a tangled and drenched mess.

Jazz mewled and keened as the twins pulled out one by one. His valve rippled as they left his heat and he flopped backwards onto Sunstreaker's broad chestplate, actually spent and exhausted. The twins spikes twitched at the sight, but they firmly tucked their spikes away in their housings. Although Jazz may be in heat, Ratchet would have their interface systems for lunch if they hurt Jazz at all. Sideswipe took Jazz and laid him down on a cleaner section of the berth.

"Recharge…we'll have more fun later," the red mech promised, rubbing Jazz's helm horns affectionately. Jazz nuzzled into that hand and did as he was bid, heat fading away…for now.

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><p><strong>AN: *giggles* How did I do?**

**Also, I have had many requests for me putting in a Decepticon chapter. So now, you get to vote. Will Jazz have a threesome with:**

**A) Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave**

**or**

**B) Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker. (I am personally leaning towards this one, but I'll like to hear everyone's output. So...it won't be the next chapter (got something planned) but the chapter after ;) **

**PLEASE VOTE AND REVIEW! REVIEWS ARE MY CHOCOLATE!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Ok guys! Thank you all for the reviews and the voting for the pairings for the next chapter have been closed. Out of the 17 reviews given, I received 7 for option A and 10 for option B. So, looks like we have a foursome with the trine ;) You know my disclaimers and all that yadda yadda yadda. **

**On another note: I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS LATE! Life does not seem to like my muse. **

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 6**

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><p>Two bodies, one doorwinged, one not, pressed up against the wall by the non-doorwinged mech. Black and white, the monochrome colours reflecting beautifully in the soft golden light of Bluestreak's small quarters. Their lips were joined, glossae frolicking together on the field of their warm metal mouths. Hands were kneading softly into black, quivering hips, doorwings were trembling with arousal. And the smell…sweet, perfuming the air with arousal. One of the hands on Jazz's hips slid down and cupped the hot interface panel, stroking gently.<p>

With a gasp, breaking off the kiss, the lust-driven black and white mech arched into the touch, wanting, no, NEEDING more.

The grey and red mech gently shushed him, making a few cooing sounds and kissing his sensory horns. They moved from the wall, this time the doorwinger directing their actions towards his berth, so much more suitable for the act that was about to take place than the wall. Bluestreak fell back, arranging his doorwings so he could land without damaging, Jazz sprawled out on top of him, slowly rubbing his frame against him.

"Blluuuueeee," moaned Jazz, his hands sweeping down the smooth grey plating beneath him, playing across the doorwings and tracing the red chevron.

Bluestreak smiled softly at the sound of the moan and tipped his head forward, his glossa peeking out from his lips to slowly trace around Jazz's sensor horns. The saboteur moaned again, rocking his body back and forth to entice Bluestreak to open him up and delve into the wet heat pooling at the juncture of his thighs. Jazz had thought that the heat that seared through him would have been pleased, tamed like an animal, after his marathon frag with the twins. With this situation with the young gunner beneath him…well, obviously not. Jazz let out a sharp gasp as Bluestreak's hands massaged his back in slow, sensual circles, relaxing and arousing him all at once.

Jazz writhed feebly under the touches, he needed something in his valve, and his body was begging, but the massage was just too good, releasing the tension from hiding in vents, creeping around the ARK, using all of his skills as a saboteur to find a warm body to pound his valve. He sank his frame against the younger mechs, hearing, faintly, the excited sparkbeat underneath his chestplates.

'_Hmm, not the right one…'_ Jazz thought absentmindedly.

Bluestreak smiled again at the TIC relaxing against him. Jazz was so delightfully warm, and so beautiful. If Bluestreak hadn't of been intent on another mech, then he was sure that Jazz would have caught his optics. He lifted his hands, pulling Jazz's lax body upright and moving him so that his warm black pelvis rested a few inches off his face. Jazz let out an irritated mewl that turned into a begging plea.

"Please…Blue," panted the black and white, fisting his hands in the sheets of the berth above the gunners helm.

Bluestreak breathed in Jazz's scent, shuttering his optics as the panel opened, a few drops of lubricant dripping onto his lips. He licked them off, savouring the flavour – unique, lightly tangy, but sweet, smelling even richer than before. Blue unshuttered his optics, watching in rapture as the valve opening clenched together desperately, a film of lubricant over the attractive array. The circuitry was heated, aroused by the heat running rife through Jazz. With a hand gently stroking over Jazz's lower back and aft, Bluestreak darted out his glossa and swiped it over the entrance. Jazz made another soft mewl at the touch as he hovered, trembling, over the grey faceplates eagerly drinking in the sight of his valve.

Bluestreak made another soothing sound, finding a small bundle of wires and rolling them between his deft, precise fingers, playing them like a musician. Jazz's mouth gaped soundlessly in pleasure as his circuits were stimulated.

Bluestreak grinned at the expression, before turning his attention back to the needy valve, dripping in front of him. He craned his neck up slightly, placing light, teasing kisses over the interface array, purposely avoiding the entrance of the valve, just nipping and licking around it tantalizingly, making Jazz mad with desire.

"Please!" Jazz cried.

"Nngh," Bluestreak groaned, aroused by Jazz's begging face, his trembling body. Obeying the plea, he swirled his glossa deep within the depths of the channel, flicking the tip of his glossa against any node he found, relishing in the cries wrung from Jazz's vocaliser. The saboteur couldn't possibly taste this good! But he did, and his valve was pressing against his glossa, indicating the need for something longer, thicker…

While Jazz was in the middle of a particularly high keen, Blue snapped open his panel, spike rising almost comically fast, raised Jazz's hips and impaled him upon his rod.

"OH!" the lust driven mechs yelled together.

Losing all semblance of control, Jazz steadied himself on his knees and began to bounce on the length within him, feeling the ridges on it stimulating his deepest nodes as he rode. It was the younger mechs turn to cry out in pleasure. Jazz was so hot, so wet and wanting against him, pistoning his hips above the length. Bluestreak looked down, watching with wide, aroused optics as his spike disappeared within the slickness of Jazz's valve, repeatedly, again and again.

Jazz was panting with the exertions, but was pleased with the pressure of the spike pounding against him, and the wide open, almost tortured pleasured look on the grey doorwingers face.

"Uuhnn," Bluestreak gasped, "Oh Jazz, you feel so good, and I'm usually quiet when I interface, but you are just so nice and tight, hot, and before, you tasted so good, like the most delicious thing ever, except for sugared energon goodies, they're my favourite and…nnnggghh, right there, ride me, mpfh!"

Jazz swooped down, pressing his lips against the talkative, curvy ones of Bluestreak and pistoning his hips down harder, clenching hard while drawing off and slamming back down. His need was uncontrollable, and he broke his lips from Blue's and yelled as the tip of the gunners spike scraped over his sweet spot, sending his processor into a pleasured frenzy. He grasped onto Bluestreak, who was now bucking up, meeting thrust to thrust.

Their cries were a symphony of gasps and moans, yelling out occasionally as the rush of an interface reached its peak and both mechs climaxed in a mess of hot, slicked bodies, helpless in their desire. Transfluid pumped into the lubricant spilled valve, overflowing and trickling down to smear over their hipplates and interface arrays. Jazz laid, boneless, on top of his lover for the night, panting harshly and trying to cool down, hearing and feeling the gunner do the same.

As exhilarated and tired as he was from Jazz's attentions, Bluestreak brought his hands up, smoothing down Jazz's sides, laying the gentle touches liberally, feeling the older mech melt into him. Jazz pecked Bluestreak on the nose, before snuggling into the grey chestplates and falling into a light recharge.

Bluestreak smiled softly at one of his commanders. It was good to see the unguarded side of Jazz. While he may be cheerful and happy practically all the time, Bluestreak knew when the act was forced and knew that Jazz hid much. How could he not? He was the head of Spec Ops after all, and had seen many terrible things. In a way, it was good that Jazz became in heat. Perhaps, mused Bluestreak, it would bring everyone closer together.

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><p><strong>AN: *ducks thrown stones* AGAIN! Sorry that this was so late! And now you are gonna throw more stuff at me, cos I might not update for the next three weeks! I know! But Uni is friggin me up majorly, and I need to get my arse in gear. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! Still want chocolate!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I KNOW I SAID THREE WEEKS! I didn't actually expect to get this one out, but my muse wouldn't leave me alone. She got fed some chocolate, so hopefully she'll leave me alone to do my exams now :( Anyway...Foursome…yum…you all know the disclaimers and blah blah blah.**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 7**

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><p>The Decepticon klaxon rang high and loud across the ARK, for the first time in a while. The Autobots leaped into action, grabbing their weapons, obeying the instructions issued immediately by Prime and by Prowl, falling into their formations like it was the most natural occurrence to them. In a blur of gleaming metal and screeching tyres, most of the mechs of the ARK had left, heading gallantly out into battle to prevent the Decepticons from destroying a human nuclear plant.<p>

However…they forgot about Jazz.

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><p>The visored mech slowly booted up, mumbling happily as he relished in the warmth of the berth he was currently on. He felt content for the moment, but could feel the now familiar prickly feeling that was followed by a surge of heat through his systems, making him go on, lusty and wanton, until it disappeared. It wasn't until he was more coherent that Jazz realised that the ARK was quiet. Too quiet.<p>

Sitting up, he realised Bluestreak wasn't even in his room. Getting up curiously, Jazz crept to the door and stepped out.

Huh.

No one at all. All he could hear was the hum of the great orange ship's systems as they ran to keep the ARK in habitual conditions. And very faintly, he could hear Red Alert in the security room, tapping away. Noticing that the buzz of comm. frequencies in the air, the saboteur realised that there must be a battle – it was one of the only times the comms would buzz like that.

He pouted, the heat surge ripping through him at last. He didn't care if there was a slaggin' battle! All he cared about was being stuffed to the hilt with an nice thick spike, to be begging and pleading for release and letting it consume him. It wasn't fair! Those Decepticons always picked the worst times. They needed to get laid.

Jazz suddenly stopped in his thoughts and grinned his usual charming, devilish grin. That was it! He could go to the battle and show the Decepticons just what they were missing. Blowing a cheeky kiss to a camera to let Red know he was going, the black and white martini racer transformed and sped out. Time to go hunting for spike!

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><p>Both factions were locked in a stalemate.<p>

Megatron and Optimus Prime were grappling with each other as always, Megatron snarling insults and Optimus coming back with his usual noble, yet witty, replies. The twins were tearing through their opponents as usual, Cliffjumper going nuts with his guns as usual, Mirage and Hound working as an impressive team as usual. It was a very ordinary battle that seemed as if they had rehearsed it too many times before, a play past it's time. But that did not mean it was not without the usual hallmarks of battle. Ironhide was down with a busted knee joint from Soundwave, and Devastator couldn't form because of a rather impressive wrench throw by Ratchet straight at Hook's helm, knocking him out stone cold.

But usual.

Until a certain 'in heat' saboteur showed up.

Jazz stood atop a hill, arms crossed, smirking down at the battle as it raged on. Now who to pick?

Before his optics could properly rove over the ground mechs, the roar of jet engines drew his lustful attention to the sky. His visor darkened further in desire as he watched Starscream and his two wingmates swoop across the sky. How could he have not have noticed before? Their grace, their beauty…their magnetism. With a grin, Jazz looked up and trilled loudly, a call in Cybertronian for immediate attention.

It was like the world stopped. The sounds of the battle faded, and the vibrating roar of powerful engines thundered around him, shaking him to his core. The seekers transformed so gracefully next to him, and they walked ethereally towards him. Starscream was in the lead, a glint in his optics echoed in that of Skywarp's and Thundercracker's. Jazz purred, cocking a hip to the side to show off his body more, to appeal to them, these gods of the sky. They clicked at him, the language of seekers. Jazz didn't know, but he understood. He clicked open his interface panel, proudly baring it for them to see.

Meanwhile, the whole battle had stopped below, just watching the spectacle. When Jazz clicked open his panel, Optimus sighed embarrassedly at Megatron, who was staring at the spectacle with a look of incredulity.

"Prime, what the frag is your saboteur doing to my best seekers?" growled the warlord.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Optimus said, "He's in heat. And by the looks of it, he's picked them to be his next interface."

"Bullslag."

"I'm not kidding. You should have heard his screams after the twins had gotten to him," replied the Autobot leader.

Megatron shook his head and muttered scornfully, "Doubt it could reach anything near Starscream's screams. But for now I am postponing this battle. No point. I'll let them know to turn on their SEM's, Primus knows how many mechs would come after them if they sparked your little TIC. Until next battle Prime." And with that, Megatron nodded and stalked off, letting his traitorous SIC know to make sure to turn on their Spark Energy Modulators.

Up on the hill, Jazz had sauntered up to Starscream, stance akimbo and defiant, daring. Starscream let out a laugh and reach a finger down to swipe off some lubricant from the entrance of Jazz's valve, feeling the sticky wetness, before lifting it to his nasal ridge and inhaling, taking in the intoxicating scent, before offering his fingers to his trinemates. TC and Skywarp were already taken over by the smell, not caring that they were of different faction, and both licked the lubricant from Starscream's glistening blue fingers. Jazz felt his kneejoints weaken in arousal at the sight. Sexy.

Arching an optic ridge at Jazz, Starscream asked, "Well?"

Jazz undulated his stance and whispered, "Satisfy me…_ravish me…_"

Starscream bent, venting hot and heavy into his sensitive audials and purred, "With _pleasure_." Starscream pulled away slightly, and with a sly smirk, picked up the wanton mech and took off, soaring across the skies, his trine following. He didn't care for doing it outside, but a little more…privacy – was needed.

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><p>The red and white jet had hardly set him down properly in a forest clearing when three pairs of hands were upon his heated frame, teasing, digging in to excite his wires, tracing his sensitive seams and sliding smoothly over plating sensor nodes. He threw his head back, gasping to the skies as their hands ravaged him, sending white fire searing across his sensor net. One hand – Jazz didn't know and didn't care who's – settled over his interface array, covering the opening of his valve in such a way that he could feel the heat radiate from the metal palm. Skywarp's helm was at his neck, nibbling on his cables before soothing them with teasing licks, Thundercracker was running his hands down his legs, worshipping them, while Starscream (ah, that's who the hand belonged to) had his hand over his valve and the other tweaking at a sensory horn, wearing a proud, yet lusty grin as he watched Jazz writhe pleasurably under their touches.<p>

"Oooh, Star…TCcee, he smells so good," Skywarp said, inhaling the scent in the Autobot's neck and licking an energon line.

"He tasted as good as his scent," rumbled Thundercracker, his wings twitching in arousal. The rumble from his voice made Jazz shudder delectably in their clutches. It was so deep and powerful, like the engines of the jet himself. Starscream noticed the reaction and laughed melodiously.

"Look at the delectable little Autobot…so turned on…because of us." TC and Skywarp grinned at their leader, drinking in the sight of the tri-coloured jet slowly, tantalisingly, opened up his interface panel, spike still in its housing, but quivering and obviously wanting to extend out. Jazz's optics went wide at the sight, and he panted and whined, bucking his hips on the ground to signal his readiness for interface. Starscream's optics brightened at the visual but he stayed still.

With another sly grin, he purred, "I am not going to do all the work, little Autobot. If you want my spike, coax it out, dripping in your oral fluid and feel it slip down to your throat. And then, you are going to like it so much, you are going to do the same for my trinemates."

The blue and purple/black jets shared Starscream's grin, all of them standing, their wings brushing each others as Jazz moved quickly to kneel in the middle of the small ring. Thundercracker and Skywarp both opened up their interface panels, and like Starscream, held their spikes in to get the full experience of a hot mouth working them over. Jazz's legs parted slightly, lubricant gathering once again in his valve at the display of their dominance. He looked up at the grinning fliers, his helm roughly level with their hips, with bright optics. Coming to a decision, the black and white saboteur inched his helm towards the red pelvis of Starscream, peering curiously and lustfully at the spike within its housing. Reaching his hands blindly to the side, Jazz felt along the others legs, creeping up, as his own mouth ghosted hot air over the spike housing.

"Get on with it," growled Thundercracker, wanting to see the Autobot's mouth stretched over Starscream's spike.

With a deep intake, Jazz darted forward and rested his mouth, open wide, over the aerial commanders spike housing. Starscream let out a soft moan, tilting his helm back, as Jazz licked at the tip of his rod in the housing, the warm glossa doing marvellous things to his sensor nodes. However, he noticed his trinemates getting slightly frustrated, due to Jazz's hands not moving from their thighs.

With a rough infliction in his tone, the tri-coloured jet ordered, "Touch them, Autobot. Stoke their spike, share that pretty mouth around – and we might give you the frag you want later."

Jazz whined needily, but coaxed Skywarp's spike out first, before Thundercracker's shortly followed, both extending eagerly into this hands and letting him work them over, able to feel them. The saboteur noticed in an idle part of his processor that Skywarp's hardware was longer than Thundercracker's, while the blue jets, while shorter, was much thicker. The contrast sent a delicious ache shooting down his spine to pool in his hips. Starscream's spike, however, was stubbornly not coming out at all, despite the aroused nature of the three (delectable) jets.

"Work for it…" whispered Starscream, his own hands stroking the wings of his trinemates, watching as black, Autobot hands stroked their spikes in varying rhythms.

Jazz nodded and sucked even harder on the housing, emitting a little grunt of satisfaction what Starscream _finally_ extended into his warm mouth. The tip touched the back of his throat, and he constricted his throat cables as if to mimic a valve. Starscream gasped, hands pinching the wings they were caressing in reaction, causing reactive gasps from both the blue and purple fliers.

"Make some noise, nice, loud, wet ones…I like noises," Skywarp, wings fluttering as Starscream moved his hand on, caressing the base of his wings. _Primus_, between the Autobot's hand on his length and Starscream's hand on his wings, he was in heaven.

Jazz inhaled, gagging obligingly, before drawing off Starscream's (slightly over-proportionate) spike, making slurping sounds as he went, teasing the slit in the head before pulling off completely to smirk up at the incoherent Starscream. Mmm, he never knew that Seeker's could be so delicious. He watched for a few seconds as the trine actively began to touch each other's wings, sharing the occasional kiss. Twisting his hand off Skywarp's spike, he shuffled around so one hand was now working on Starscream's slippery member and the other still caressed Thundercracker's girth. He moved forward again, nuzzling against the teleporter's length before encasing it in his mouth and flicking the tip of his glossa against the sensor node under the head.

"Slag," Skywarp hissed, feeling pleasure emanate through his hips and spread throughout his body.

"Good huh?" smirked Starscream, watching Skywarp emit a strangled groan as the pretty blue-visored saboteur took him deeper, oral lubricants dripping out the corners of his mouth. Skywarp could only nod, his vents hitching and he panted. Thundercracker watched it all, his optics smouldering as he leaned over to his lover and kissed Skywarp deeply, tangling their glossae together almost harshly.

Jazz kept pumping his hands smoothly over the spikes resting their hot weight in his palms, bobbing his helm enthusiastically. The metal in his mouth was smooth, sliding in and out as he made lovely wet noises. He could smell the heating circuitry, knowing it was just as hot as his own and pulled off, and giving one last teasing lick to the teleporter's length before switching to Thundercracker. He took the tip of the thick spike in his mouth. Licking around the head before opening his mouth wider to accommodate for the thickest girth of the three Seekers. He moaned deeply around the throbbing metal, revelling in the stretch of his lip components and the guttural growl rumbling up from the blue Seekers throat as he sucked as best as he could.

"Nnngh," Thundercracker rumbled, hands reaching down to press the black helm harder down his spike. He needed to be devoured whole by this little pert Autobot, he wanted the Autobot to feel every inch of him down his throat.

Jazz gagged harder this time, his saliva-like substance dripping out of his mouth as he felt the girth of the shortest Seeker spike in selection open his jaw hinges wide. He shuttered his optics in desire as he thought about how it would feel in either his valve or his aft port.

Seeing Starscream's and Skywarp's smouldering looks and meeting them with a scorching one of his own, Thundercracker pulled out of Jazz's mouth swiftly, smiling at the string of oral lubricant trailing from his spike to the plump lipplates.

"Look at his legs," giggled Skywarp gleefully.

All three Seekers looked down, and their wings quivered with bridled desire as they saw thick rivulets of lubricant trickling down Jazz's trembling thighs as he knelt in between them all.

"I don't care if I only get his mouth, I just want a good taste," whispered the black and purple jet, doing his favourite innocent-optics to Starscream, "please?"

"Go ahead, but after you make him overload, I want his valve on my spike. TC, you can have his aft port," replied Starscream, toying around his own interface array, not directly touching, but ghosting over it so he was revved up, but not ready to overload. He could still fell the hungry mouth of the Autobot saboteur on his spike and sighed in bliss, optics dimming slightly as he watched his mischievous trinemate lie on his back, wiggling so his face was beneath the dripping valve, TC holding the Autobot's arms above his head.

Jazz himself was letting out breathy gasps and mewls as he struggled in the grasp, wanting to touch the two Seekers, but was helpless by the pleasure assaulting him in his valve. He could feel Starscream's desiring gaze upon him, on the point where Skywarp's glossa was flicking the nodes on the edges of his swollen, leaking valve.

He was so sensitized, so hot with desire that his climax almost took him by surprise, lubricant trickling out faster and escaping out his valve around the slide of the fliers glossa within him, his walls clamping down on the appendage. Light fizzled across his HUD, and he let out a low keen of pleasure.

When his trembling subsided and Skywarp moved out from under him, Jazz realised he heard rattling. Looking up, he saw the origin of the sound.

All three Seeker's wings were trembling so hard in arousal that they were rattling. With a slow 'come fuck me' smirk, Jazz opened his legs wide, undulating his body and giving the three jets a good look at his waiting valve. Thundercracker was the first to move, tackling the smaller body and flipping them into position so he was on the ground on his back, the Autobot's heated frame sprawled heatedly over his with his back to TC's cockpit. His dark had was fondling wires in Jazz's hips roughly, causing the smaller mech to buck helplessly into the touch.

"TC!" gasped Skywarp, watching his trinemate touch the pretty black and white Autobot.

Starscream growled, and moved so he was kneeling between the splayed legs of his trinemate and the Autobot, tracing a fingertip of the edges of the sensor-laden valve, moving it down to zig-zag over Thundercracker's thick member, and then palming his own spike in his hand, watching Jazz pant with anticipation.

"Want me and TC to enter you? Fuck you? You little slut," cooed the trine leader, the human words rolling of his glossa easily.

The other three mechs in the clearing groaned at the tone and the words. Jazz nodded frantically. He wanted the heat to dissipate, the teasing was too much, he was too hot…Thundercracker's hands were fingering behind his over-sensitized valve, feeling for his little used aft port. He opened it eagerly, feeling those same fingers gather up some of his lubricant and smear it thoroughly over his back entrance. Starscream was now lining himself up, nudging the leaking opening with the tip of his spike. Jazz took in those crimson optics, ethereal in the sunlight of the clearing but glowing with need. It's then when the realisation fully hit Jazz that he was going to be fragged by three seekers at the same time, and he didn't care they barely knew him, or that they called him 'Autobot.' He. Did. Not. Care. With his lipplates parted appealingly, Jazz lifted his hand and made a beckoning motion – giving full permission for Starscream to enter and complete and exhaust the heat.

With a sudden shove of both their hips, both Starscream and Thundercracker thrust in to the wet holes, filling in to the hilt.

"OOHH!" Jazz cried out at the sudden double stuffing. He threw his helm back against the blue jet's shoulder vent, feeling the hot ex-vents pound the nape of his neck to make him shake, and he could see Skywarp above him, teasingly tapping the tip of his length against his openly keening mouth.

Thundercracker grunted, feeling the cords of the aft port tighten in response to the intrusion and he struggled not to buck up relentlessly into the heat. He could feel Starscream's spike through the lining separating the valve and the aft port keenly, it was almost as if they were rubbing up against each other – the friction was so delicious. It was usually Skywarp that they double teamed, but as their hips were slightly bigger, it was a lower sense of contact deep within than here. Looking up, he saw Starscream's expression and smirked.

His charcoal faceplates were screwed up in pleasure, denta gritted as he shifted his hips in and out slightly, waiting for the Autobot to stop clenching so hard. To Thundercracker and Skywarp, it was pure beauty. His wings were trembling but held wide to show his satisfaction.

"Move…please," gasped Jazz, feeling every shift through his drenched sensor nodes.

Starscream purred deeply in tandem with Thundercracker, nuzzling Jazz's neck to give it a quick, fire inducing bite, pulled out, and slammed back in.

"AAhhhhh! Mpf!" Jazz exclaimed, but was cut off by the intrusion of Skywarp's throbbing length sliding smoothly into his open mouth. Jazz shuttered his optics behind his dark visor and sucked on it greedily, feeding the pleasure travelling through him into his actions. Humming and crying out at intervals, Jazz bobbed and jerked his helm, wanting the release tingling his glossa and sliding thickly down to his tanks. He was in pure interface heaven, all openings filled and pounded by the three lucky spikes of the Seekers. He could smell the burning ozone and the tang of oil, energon pounding through their lines at dizzying speeds to fuel their ardour.

"Yes…" hissed Skywarp, bucking slowly into the mouth wrapped around him.

"Frag it. Can feel you Star," Thundercracker growled, jerking his hips up into the tight embrace of the aft port at a furious pace. He shuttered his optics halfway, content to see as Skywarp thrust into the Autobot's wiling mouth next to his helm, and as Starscream panted, driving in to the hilt with each friction filled slide into the sucking, hungry valve. Unable to resist, the blue jet pulled his trine leader down for a passion filled, glossa sucking kiss.

"So hot. Star, TC…can we keep the Autobot as a pet?" purred the black and purple jet, delighting in the sights and sensation.

"Nnn…as tempting…ah…as it…hah…sounds, I really…nngh…don't want my wiiinggss…blasted by the A-autobots wanting…(hiss)…their saboteur," Starscream panted. He was rather tempted too. The black and white frame sandwiched between him and Thundercracker – swapping paint oh so wonderfully – smelt fragging _gorgeous_, was drop dead beautiful (for an Autobot), and was so enthusiastic in the interface department, undulating and arching with each thrust, every move and action begging for more. And his valve…so tight! Every mech's dream.

"Too bad," whispered Skywarp in reply, faceplates slack for a moment as Jazz hummed around his spike.

Jazz almost begged them to take him and be their pet forever as long as he was in heat and they kept sliding deep within him. He felt the familiar coiling of lust in his abdomen, the tightening of his channel around Starscream's rapidly thrusting member and groaned loudly around Skywarp's spike, alerting the fliers to his uncontrollable writhing and trembling body.

"Thundercracker, pull out. I want to see his face covered in yours and Skywarp's transfluid," ordered the tri-coloured jet, slowing slightly in his pace to allow for the position switch – enabling him to speak more fluently.

"As long as you give me your valve when we get back to base," purred Thundercracker lowly, sliding out of Jazz's back entrance and shimmying off to the side to allow him to get out from under the Autobot - and making Starscream shiver at the promise of more debauchery later.

"Yours," breathed Starscream. Skywarp also pulled swiftly out, oral lubricant making his spike wet and sticky. He and Thundercracker knelt next to the Autobot's flushed faceplates, hovering the tips of their spikes over the attractive, pouty lipplates. With quick grins to each other the two kneeling Seekers reached over to fondle the other's spikes, stroking quickly and firmly in time to Starscream's renewed thrusts.

Jazz keened and gasped, grabbing onto Starscream's arms above him almost hard enough to dent the plating, arching into the hot cockpit above and feeling that thobbing spike within him take his nodes to ecstasy, Starscream jerking and pounding his hips into him, into his core...

With a shuddering gasp and a drawn out yell, Jazz exploded from the inside, bolts of pleasure shooting through him, rendering him strutless. "AaAahhH!" he let out the sobbing-in-pleasure yell, pressing even closer to the fliers for contact, and felt the lubricant rush within him slick up Starscream's thrusts even more.

"Uh, uh…uh," Starscreams voice got a little higher pitched as Jazz overloaded , slick and tight around him. He bucked a bit more, before the warmth that had pooled heavily at the base of his spike crashed through him and he overloaded heavily into the valve of the Autobot.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHH! YYEEESSSS!" Starscream shrieked, screaming his ecstasy out to the sky.

Hot spurts of transfluid splashed against the tight walls surrounding him and he halted all motion – save for his wings, which were fluttering in delight – to savour the moment more. He could feel the other's smirking optics on him and he panted heavily to cool himself down. Who knew that an Autobot would be so good in the berth? (Figuratively speaking).

"And that, little Autobot, is why we call him Screamer," grunted Thundercracker, but not without flashing a smirk at Starscream.

"And don't you forget it," smirked Starscream, coming down from the high but keeping himself sheathed in the trembling valve, content to watch as his beloved trinemates stroked themselves to completion over the Autobot's faceplates, which were wide in pleasure.

"NNNhhh, so good," breathed Skywarp as he overloaded, transfluid bubbling up and spattering attractively over Jazz's lips and left cheek, some of it escaping into the open mouth. Thundercracker jerked his hips up more into his and Skywarp's hands not a few moments later, his own transfluid spurting wildly over the mouth, nose and visor from his thick girth.

"Ooh, what a load TC," purred Starscream, licking his lips and bending down to lick up the combined tastes of his trinemates, but leaving enough to stain the faceplates.

Jazz mewled and stretched, feeling _very_ satisfied and found himself very well-faced. With a slightly more lucid processor, he was fascinated by the way the Seekers interacted.

"Mmm, and there's more when we get back to base. How about all over your wings, in your valve and in your mouth? And then Skywarp can use all your pretty little holes too," replied the blue jet, winking slyly at the tri-coloured jet.

"Better make that a promise TC. Star, want me to take our little pet back to the pound?" giggled Skywarp, tucking away his spike and tapping Jazz on the nasal ridge playfully.

With a low hum, Starscream nodded. "Go, come back, and then we can have some more fun in our quarters," teased the trine leader, before turning his face back to Jazz underneath him, "And you, when I pull out, you are going to shut your panel immediately and keep all my transfluid in your valve until you get back to your base. You should be honoured, little Autobot, I don't frag do-gooders often." Jazz nodded, and shut his panel as soon as the warm, but now limp, length left his stretched valve, trapping the sticky, combined fluids in.

Skywarp scooped up their 'frag buddy' and winked at his trinemates before warping away to the Autobot base.

Starscream turned to stand with Thundercracker and pressed himself intimately to him, reaching his hands around to the expanse of the blue wings and began to stroke sensually before leaning up to his trinemates audio and whispering, "And when we get to base, soldier, I order for you to make me scream against the wall of our room."

With a wide smirk, Thundercracker groped Starscream's aft and replied, "Yes, sir."

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><p><strong>AN: So…much…sex! I finished it and went 'holy frag, I've just written a whole transcript for Cyberporn.' I hope it was worth the wait. I tried to go a different route and based it a little of what I imagine a porno to be (yeah, never watched one, but I write stuff 0.o). I also hope you kinda get why they were really impersonal against Jazz. But hey, pleasure is pleasure! Again, PLEASE REVIEW! Even if I don't reply, please know I appreciate all reviews and all reviewers.**

**Also, I will get the remaining few chapters out when I can. They will be worth the wait, trust me. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** **This is the second last pairing. Yeah, it's kinda obvious who's gonna be next after this. And then there is some semblance of a real plot. This is a bit of a change of pace compared to last chapter. Also...I still can't believe I managed to get this out as fast as i did, all circumstances considered. Anyway, enjoy the chap.**

**You know the warnings and the disclaimers and all that jazz.**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter Eight**

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><p>Huffer and Cliffjumper were patrolling around the ARK territory lines when a sudden loud crack filled the air and a smirking Skywarp appeared in front of them, a dazedly grinning Jazz held in his arms, transfluid and lubricant leaking out of his interface panel seams and translfuid smeared and spattered all over his faceplates. The two Autobots held their guns out warily, not making a move but watching.<p>

"Hey guys!" chirped Skywarp cheerfully, "Brought your friend back…he was fantastic."

Huffer and Cliffjumper looked at each other in bewilderment before Cliffjumper stepped forward, arms outstretched to take the happily humming saboteur who was now languidly licking the remaining fluids off his faceplate. Skywarp winked, dumped him in the strong red arms and warped away without another comment. Jazz let out a happy mewl before snuggling into the warrior's chest, bringing a hand up to stroke along an armoured shoulder, looking up into Cliffjumper's startled optics.

"Come on Cliffjumper. Let's take him back to Ratchet just in case," said Huffer, shaking the red mech out of his reverie.

"Yeah…yeah, let's go," replied Cliffjumper, shutting his olfactory sensors off firmly with a final nod.

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><p>Ratchet looked up sharply as the medbay doors clattered open and revealed Cliffjumper with Jazz clutched in his arms, a somewhat disgusted look on his face. Ratchet raised a questioning eyeridge.<p>

"He's leaking lubricant's and transfluid everywhere. Con transfluid," sneered Cliffjumper, stalking over to the first medberth and placing a giggling Jazz on it, nodding to Ratchet and stalking back out again. Ratchet sighed and turned his attention to Jazz, who was posing in an enticing way on the berth on his side, mouth open in a grin and glossa unconcernedly licking away any excess transfluid slowly dripping down. He wiggled his hips and clicked open his panel, a gush of combined fluids flowing out onto the medberth.

"Seekers did you good huh?" asked Ratchet, caught between surprise and laughter.

"MMmm-hmm," hummed Jazz running his hand over his body smoothly.

Ratchet did laugh at this and said incredulously, "You just got a processor blowing four-way and you're still horny?"

Jazz said nothing, but his darkened visor fixated on the medic and he stood and sauntered over to where Ratchet was seated, legs crossed. Ratchet's optics narrowed but he stayed still, letting Jazz come to him. Jazz was right near him now and had bent over so they were nasal ridge to nasal ridge. With a smirk, Ratchet reached up a red hand to Jazz's neck, stroking the cables and causing the saboteur to lean into the touch. Jazz leaned forward, almost touching his lips to Ratchet's when a sharp pain erupted from his neck and he gasped, falling forward into the medic's chest and blacking out. Ratchet picked up the limp black and white form with a chuckle and placed him back on the berth.

"That ought to stop you for a bit," muttered Ratchet in satisfaction, reaching over to a bench and retrieving a jar of salve to sooth Jazz's valve. Just from a distance, Ratchet had seen that the valve had been a little overused. It gave him the time now to heal that.

"He's all right?" came a voice from the doorway.

"From what I can see so far Prime, he's fine. A little well shagged, but fine," replied Ratchet, dipping his fingers into the salve and applying liberal amounts to Jazz's valve – being careful and thorough in all his movement.

Optimus strode forward, watching one of his oldest friend tend to another. He sighed and asked, "Can you estimate when this heat cycle will end?"

"Soon. Most mechs have a certain pattern that they will follow, and most mechs display the same one. See with Jazz, he started with someone he trusted – in this case, me and Blaster. He then went after those he knew but he doesn't completely and fully trust. He likes them, sure, but not trust compared to others. For example, Jazz likes Bluestreak, is one of his mentors, but he doesn't trust him like you or me. And then he went after the Seekers. He doesn't trust them at all, but it signals the desperation of the heat," Ratchet said, finishing with the salve and wiping his hands on a cloth before turning to face his leader with a serious expression. "After that, the pattern usually follows that the mech in heat will go after those he trusts the most. Meaning…"

"Me and Prowl," whispered the red and blue mech in contemplation.

"Most likely. And here's another tip. Heat is very predictable. Jazz is random, but it a slave to the pattern I just outlined. Oh yeah, he's enjoying it, for sure," the medic chuckled, "but here's what will happen. Whoever is the last mech he faces with before the end of the heat cycle is the one he's more attracted to and would rather have a sparkling with. So Prime, if he boots up and walks out of here, he's gonna go find Prowl, no doubt. But if not, he'll probably go up to you."

"I'm bonded to Elita, Ratchet," rumbled the Autobot commander softly.

Canting his helm to the side, the medic replied, "And I know for a fact that she has not limited you to her if a mech in heat comes seeking you. What is your trouble, old friend?"

"I'd feel unfaithful…because I think I'd enjoy it so much…not being with my mate for so long-"

"Pah! No time to feel guilty about this Prime. If Jazz seeks you, it's nothing personal. It's one mech helping out another. I didn't have time to feel guilty that I was paying _special_ attention to a valve other than Wheeljack's when Jazz came to me that first night. Remember that Jazz is only half conscious of his actions. Enough to do the motions, but not enough to be fully cognitive. When the cycle ends, he's gonna wake up not knowing for about a minute and then it'll all rush back to him," lectured the medic, crossing his arms, hoping to get his thick-helmed leader to understand.

"But-"

Optimus's reply was cut off by a small moan. Both mechs turned to see Jazz rouse himself, sitting up on the berth, before looking around in slight confusion. As recognition dawned, a slow smile crept across his mouth and he slid off the berth and sauntered towards his Prime, swinging his hips as he walked.

"Ratchet, sometimes I hate it when you are right," grumbled Optimus.

The medi-bot laughed, but said, "Give him a good wash before you 'face him. He needs it."

By this time, Jazz had moved directly in front of his leader, grin wide, but trusting, a hand reaching up to touch the windshield of his truck alt mode. Optimus looked down and sighed. He would not deny Jazz, but he would not allow himself to be ensnared by the scent of the lubricant and shut off his olfactory senses. Elita had never bound his interface array to her only – just his spark – but he still felt a little guilty for what he was about to do.

Reaching out a hand, Optimus said, "Come on Jazz."

Jazz let out a happy sigh and took leaders hand to lead them to his berth room.

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><p>Jazz jumped on Optimus's wide berth without any hesitation, wiggling on the covers and displaying his body proudly with a certain style that only he could possess. Optimus chuckled but said, "Washracks first Jazz…then I can fulfil your needs."<p>

The black and white frame shimmied off the berth and skipped to the door of the private washrack, wiggling his aft at Optimus before entering and turning around to beckon his leader towards him, sucking on a finger lasciviously. Optimus felt his systems heat up at the visual and he vented. No need to act like a young mech who just discovered his interface array. But it was difficult, having denied himself pleasure with another for so long. He entered and stopped just in the doorway to watch a playful Jazz.

The water was pouring down from the showerhead, hot and steaming, beginning to fog up the small room. The saboteur had opened his panel to showcase the waiting valve, lathering up the solvent all other his body, ridding himself of the stains the Seekers had left. He was shaking his hips to some imagined beat and was humming a tune. Optimus watched silently as Jazz shimmied and shook his way over to him, and swiped the sponge in his hand teasingly over his chestplates.

Optimus chuckled and took the sponge from Jazz and helped to wash the solvent off him. There was something unique about Jazz like this. Although he was lusty, there was an innocence Optimus had never seen in the saboteur before. Like he had let his guard down.

Jazz grinned up in encouragement. Through the heat addled haze in his processor, he could tell Optimus was a bit reluctant. But Jazz _needed_ this. And…he wanted to see if Prime was a big as rumour had it.

Optimus let out a grunt as Jazz's sneaky black hand gripped the cover of his interface panel, gentle but demanding. With a sigh, he slid the panel open smoothly, baring it to Jazz's fingers.

Jazz made a soft sound of interest and traced his fingers around the housing, alternating pressures and sliding across pleasure wires and nodes around the housing. His helm was roughly level with Optimus's chestplates, and he turned his attention to them, nuzzling against them, hearing the powerful beat of his spark before placing slow open mouthed kisses on the cool glass. A large hand stroked across his shoulders, while another reached behind him to lean on the wall. Jazz smiled into the kisses to his leader's chest. _Finally_, the truck mech was relaxing and accepting what Jazz could give. He nibbled on a windshield wiper, rewarded by a harsh pant and a thick, long spike sliding into his palm.

"Mmm," moaned Jazz softly as he leaned back a bit to take in the sight of his leaders spike. The rumours did the mech no justice at all.

For Optimus was definitely a big boy, even for his size he was a bit bigger than usual, so much so that Jazz could not wrap his hand completely around the metal shaft. And to think, that length would be buried within him soon! His visor darkened further in lust and he whispered – the first coherent sentence in a while – "Mmm, Elita is one lucky femme."

Optimus choked behind his mask and retracted it. The black and white mech looked up at the whirring sound and he giggled, "Jeez, Prime. Now Ah know why ya wear the mask…otha mech's would wanna jump ya!"

Optimus blushed, energon flowing to his cheek arches at the compliment. The bigger mech leaned his helm back against the wall as Jazz stroked up and down his member with both hands, triggering the nodes that had been untouched by another hand in centuries. With a sigh, the truckformer shuttered his optics and pretended, briefly, that it was Elita's delicate, pink hands stroking firmly over him, a smirk on his face at the reaction. The daydream made his spike throb and stand at full mast, causing Jazz to purr happily at the reaction.

The red and blue mech knew that he couldn't last too long once they fully started, so with gentle hands, he pried Jazz's hands off him and turned them around so he was pressed up behind Jazz with Jazz face first against the wall.

The saboteur moaned again, pressing himself back into his leader, shivering at the warmth emanating from behind. The spike laid, heavy, on his lower back strut as Optimus gently reached down to his valve and began to stretch him out with this large blue digits. Jazz whined slightly at the initial stretch, then relaxed the muscle cables that surrounded the lining of his inner channel as the gentle, probing fingers wiggled deeper, spreading out in random intervals to makes the smaller mech gasp, "Yes!"

The larger mech couldn't believe he was doing this. He really couldn't. Here he was, his fingers practically swallowed up in the valve of one of his most trusted officers and one of his friends. It was almost too surreal.

But it was. The silky texture of the valve, damp and dripping, tight around his fingers and soon to be tight around his spike was definitely real, and he could feel the speed up in the pulse of Jazz's spark. He twisted his fingers around slowly in the hot wetness, causing Jazz to squeal slightly and keen.

"Shh," Optimus whispered, nuzzling the top of Jazz's helm.

Slowly, and being the gentle giant that he was, the Autobot leader took his fingers out, teasing the nodes at the rim of the entrance, before lining his thick length up and impaling Jazz in one smooth, gentle, slow movement. Jazz gasped, panting, and curled in further to the wall as the biggest spike he had ever taken was hilted in him, the girth of the throbbing metal stretching him unbelievably. If he hadn't of been in heat, his inner walls might not have been so flexible, and instead of pleasure, he might of felt pain. But no, this was exquisite, the delicate balance of pleasure and pain. Jazz knew that he was going to be slightly sore in the morning.

"Ok?" Optimus grunted.

Jazz nodded, pressing himself down flush with his leaders hips.

Curling in closer to his TIC, Optimus grasped the black hips firmly to pin him against the wall and slowly slid out, and back in, mindful of his size.

Optimus gasped, screwing his optics shut tight with pleasure. He had forgotton how _good_, how _wonderful_ it was to gave a valve sheathing him, surrounding him with searing heat and passion. His hands clamped a little tighter on Jazz's hips at the revelation, and he shuddered, feeling the answering squeeze of the velvety valve walls around him.

Jazz was in a state of bliss, feeling the gentle intruder set his sensors alight on a slow burn, building up in his circuits, hazing his processor. Static fizzled his high keens and moans as Optimus kept up the slow pace, thrusting deeply and gently with each slide of his hot metal. His hands scrabbled over the moisture slicked surface of the washrack wall as he tried to keep himself higher up so Optimus wouldn't do all the work. Optimus was panting and groaning softly above his audios, not loudly like some others Jazz had been with. It was oddly soothing.

The larger mech knew that he wasn't going to last too long – being celibate for such a length of time – and scooped Jazz in his arms, still buried deep within the clench of the valve, and moved out of the washrack, turning off the taps as he did so. Jazz bucked his hips up in surprise as Optimus carried him over the berth and maintained their position.

"SShh," Optimus cooed again as Jazz whined in need, and he softly laid them both on their sides on his berth so he was spooning Jazz from behind, still connected to him by his spike.

Jazz relaxed slightly as his leader stroked along his sides, finding his sensitive nodes and playing around them to keep him revved up. He shuttered his optics and pressed back harder into the wide red chassis, lifting his legs up to twine it around the back of his leader's behind him, as to ease the transition back to movement when Optimus would finally slide out and in again in that soft, caring rhythm that he had been using. Finally, Optimus halted his strokes along his body and carefully wrapped his arms around the warm, trembling, black and white frame in a divine embrace. And finally, the Autobot leader moved.

Jazz's lips parted to make the soft noises of interface once more, his vocaliser hitching with each slow, smooth stroke of the massive spike into him.

Unwittingly, Optimus mumbled behind him, "Elita…"

Jazz started a little, but didn't care. As long as he got his overload, Prime could shout out Cliffjumper's name for all he cared. He hissed through clenched denta as he felt the very tip of the larger mechs spike rub up against the end of his valve chamber, where the reproductive channel was housed. Only a few mechs he had fragged could get to the end, and Optimus didn't even thrust hard to do it! The gentle motions rocked their bodies together over and over, when suddenly overload consumed them both like a thief in the night.

The lithe visored mech was the first to fall to the ever devouring pleasure, chocking out a strangled cry as in inner walls pressed down on the throbbing, hot, thick metal inside, lubricant trickling once more out of his valve in a heady rush. Electricity shot through him like lightening, intense and overwhelming.

Optimus watched as the climax took Jazz for its own and didn't hold back any longer, shifting his hips back far enough so that only the tip of his spike was encased in the valve - and he overloaded hard, transfluid spurting out into the valve and out from the entrance, grunting the name of his sparkmate to the room in his deep baritone. "Elita…nnnggh!" He realised what he did and his faceplates flushed in embarrassment, but Jazz didn't seem to mind.

In fact, the saboteur had extracted himself from his leaders arms to reposition himself comfortably face to face with the gentle mech. Optimus expected Jazz to smirk or do something cheekily Jazz-like. Instead, Jazz gave him a sad sort of smile, leaned up and gave him a soft peck just above his optics – his hand patting one of his blue finials in comfort.

"Ah know," whispered Jazz, before curling in – almost sparkling-like – to his leader's chestplates and promptly dropping into recharge, exhausted by the three overloads in one day.

Optimus was in a small state of shock. For one second, Jazz's visor had turned it's normal blue, before darkening back into his 'heat' state. Ratchet was right. The cycle would be over soon. With as much care as he had shown through the interface, the matrix bearer picked Jazz up and set him under the covers of his berth. He smiled at the recharging form, glad that Jazz had not held it against him that he had whispered Elita's name. Resigning himself to the fact that he would have the knowledge that he had interfaced with one of his friends, Optimus laid back and settled into recharge, knowing that tomorrow was going to be a whole new ball game.

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><p><strong>AN: So…like it? Hate it? Anything else? Please review! You know how I love them. Ok, probably another three chapters (if the muse doesn't run away and have sex with another plot bunny) and then that will be the completion of my first major chapter fic. Again, chapters will be up WHEN THEY CAN so please be patient. I love you all!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: The chapter that you have all been waiting for! You know all my disclaimers and the blah blah blah. And I blame "Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi for the sappyish sort of interface scene at the end. I had it on repeat. **

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 9**

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><p>It had been a quiet, peaceful day in the ARK, no extraordinary events as of yet. Jazz, as rumour had it, was so zapped by the multiple overloads that he had slept past noon in their Prime's quarters. It was now afternoon, 5pm, and Prowl was sitting tranquilly at his desk. For the tactician, it had been so odd not to be bothered by Jazz's antics, by the reassuring smiles the saboteur shot his way when he came into his office with a cube of energon to make sure he refuelled. To be blunt, Prowl missed Jazz, the way he had been so integrated into his routine.<p>

For him to go into heat had shocked Prowl. But it made him more determined to finally confess his feelings, regardless of the consequences. That is, when the heat cycle ended.

Prowl still couldn't get the image of Jazz being interfaced into the corner of the wall and floor by an invisible Mirage out of his processor. It played like a broken record, over and over, the parted, kissable lipplates erupting with sounds of passion, the writing, lithe body and the sight of that lubricated valve – enough to put a pleasure bot to shame.

The thought sent a shiver down Prowl's spine. He had hoped that Jazz would seek him out, but having not seen the saboteur, he was losing hope. Shaking his chevroned helm, Prowl resolved himself to just doing the reports until midnight before stumbling to his room and falling into recharge.

20 minutes later, Prowl sighed, frustrated. With every report he did, all he could do was picture Jazz's face, held in ecstasy, but instead of an invisible Mirage, it was him that was causing Jazz to cry out in bliss.

"Stop it," he told himself firmly. It was no good to fantasize. And completely inappropriate given that he was working.

It worked for a little while, and just when Prowl was finally getting into the groove, the doorpad keypad was clicking, indicating some was entering a code. The doorwinged mech frowned. Most mechs were off duty now. Who would come and see him at this time?

The door slid slowly open.

There was Jazz, smirking, visor sapphire with desire.

"Hello, handsome," he purred at Prowl.

Prowl smirked back. Primus was smiling down on him today. He took a deep intake, and even though Jazz was at his doorway, he caught the delicious, heady scent of the lubricant that so characterised a mech's heat cycle. Placing all his datapads to the side – knowing no work was going to get done now – Prowl said, "I was wondering if you'd ever be at my door."

Jazz canted his helm to the side, visor flashing, and he replied in the most seductive tone, "And why would ya ever wonder that Prowler?"

Prowl didn't reply, but simply leaned back in his chair, doorwings twitching nervously in both anticipation and arousal. Jazz didn't seem perturbed by his lack of response and sauntered into the office, swaying his hips slowly side to side, the lights reflecting prettily over the bright white and black plating. The seated mech made a low noise of appreciation, lowering all of inhibitions. Now was not the time to hide behind his mask. Now was a time to be unbridled, passionate, _free._ To value the sight of Jazz heading for him with only one thing in his processor, and to interface with the horny mech enough times to truly savour it.

Jazz came in front of him, standing with his legs apart to display his hot panel, leaking slight beads of lubricant around the seams.

The one thought that the saboteur had running through his mind when he woke up that late afternoon was to find Prowl. Find him, and frag him until they were exhausted, drenched, and spent. He didn't know why, instinct and lust drew him to the Praxian like a moth to the flame. He was here now, and was going to make the most of it.

Prowl shuttered his optics, breathing in that intoxicating drug. It wrapped around his mind like a lustful fog, and he let out a small groan.

It happened in a whirl of action.

Prowl, with a low, purring growl, knocked everything off his desk, grasping Jazz by the waist, flipping him and pushing him to the desk so that those lust-burdened faceplates were pressed against the sturdy wood and metal.

"NNnn," moaned Jazz.

"Like that?" whispered Prowl, pressing against that body that he had wanted for so long, venting hot air into Jazz's audios and feeling him shiver.

"Oh _Primus_ yes! Ah need ya!"

Prowl took a few calming breaths, and tilted Jazz's helm to the side so their mouths met in a kiss. Prowl felt like he was going to explode with joy. His first kiss with Jazz! Their mouths fit perfectly with each others, the smooth, massaging glide of their lips so very arousing and comfortingly gentle. It sent tingles racing through his body from the contact, his spark pulsing harder in its casing. Jazz whimpered needily, parting his lips to trace his glossa over Prowl's lower lipplate, begging for entrance. The other black and white obeyed the unspoken request, and couldn't hold back a wanton moan as their glossas touched, stroked, teased. Meanwhile, Prowl's hands were not idle, tactfully and logically mapping out Jazz's systems, finding out what Jazz reacted to, what was sensitive, what could be manipulated for maximum effect and what could not.

Jazz pushed back blindly, rubbing his aft against Prowl's panel. The doorwinged mech's hands were all over him, playing with the wires in his bumper, stroking over the blue and red stripe on his chest, smoothing over his thigh plating. It was like he was dedicating each sensory node to memory, with how thoroughly he was finding his hotspots. The heat coursed through him like a starved animal, and he opened his panel, lubricant already slicking out.

Prowl pulled back and growled possessively at the sight of the valve. He didn't care that others had been there recently, only that from now on, he was determined to make it _his._

Grasping Jazz's hands with his own, he guided them to the far side of his desk, clamping his hands down to indicate that's where his hands would stay. Prowl then stepped back completely, losing all body contact with the saboteur. Jazz went to turn around, but Prowl stopped him with a commanding, "Don't move." Jazz turned back to stretch out, face down, on the desk, and keened softly at the tone, feeling his valve get wet just by the sound of that smooth voice.

Prowl looked appraisingly at the sight of Jazz bent over his desk. It was a delicious sight, the wanting, heated black and white frame undulated and his for the taking. It revved up his circuits like none other had before. No one but Jazz had made him want to interface in the sanctity of his own office, not one previous lover (scant as they were), made him want to bury himself so deep in them that he never wanted to come out again. With a harsh pant, the normally reserved tactician opened his own panel, his spike jutting out in the open air. Jazz gave a little whimper of need at the sound, twisting his helm to take in Prowl's spike. It was mostly smooth, with ridges around the head, which was beginning to leak from pre-transfluid. It seemed perfectly tailored for his valve – thick, and slightly longer than the average bot. It made the visored mech giddy with desire and he spread his legs wider in invitation.

Prowl crooned softly, "I want you so bad Jazz."

"Take me, please!" pleaded Jazz, clenching tighter to the desk.

Prowl, to the 'in heat' mech's disappointment, did not immediately pound in and stretch him in the best way. Instead the Praxian mech gently stroked the opening to slick his fingertips, bringing them up to his nasal ridge and inhaling deeply the unique scent of Jazz. He then licked them off, slowly savouring the slightly spicy flavour.

Jazz had saw him perform the saucy actions, and sobbed in need, bucking his hips back.

"Jazz," soothed Prowl, rubbing his back comfortingly.

The chevroned mech shifted into position, taking a moment just to commit it to memory, before leaning down over his lover's body, and smoothly pushing in with one firm stroke.

Jazz whined at the contact, feeling it keenly as the spike filled him, stretched him nicely, and he could feel every inch within. His hands grasped harder at the desks edge, enough to dent the metal. He could feel Prowl's weight rest slightly upon him, feel the hot air as he vented. The sensations were mind-blowing, this simple intimacy making static fizzle his soft cries.

Prowl hissed, feeling the clamp of the silken feel of the valve around him. He nuzzled into the nape of Jazz's neck, pressing a kiss there and looping on arm around Jazz's waist, the other on the desk for balance. It was simply…exquisite…divine, unimaginable. It felt so _right_, like they were completely meant for each other. Pants beginning to get heavier, the slightly taller black and white pulled out and shortly thrust in, slowly at first, but uncontrollable need overwhelmed him and he began fast, long, pounding strokes into the slippery valve holding tightly around his length. It was pure nirvana.

"Ah! OOoohh YES!" Jazz cried when the new pace began, the spike hitting all the right places as if perfectly orchestrated to hit a sweetspot with each thrust.

"Oh Jazz," Prowl gasped softly, burying his helm in the other's shoulder.

Then, with a smirk as a devious thought crossed his CPU, Prowl bit down on that shoulder. Jazz yelped as the metal dented under the hard bite, but then relaxed as the other mech soothed it with his glossa. It marked him, undeniably, as Prowl's.

The wet slaps of spike hitting valve, streching it in ecstasy, filled the room amongst the sounds of lightly clanging hips and the pleasured cries wrung from Jazz's static filled vocaliser, and the heavy pants and low growls made from a dominating Prowl.

Prowl could feel overload approaching like a speeding freight train, a hot sensation pooling low in his abdomen, electricity crackling over his sensor net. He knew Jazz was coming to a quick overload too, if the increase in the volume of his cries were anything to go by, and the tighter squeeze of his valve.

"Close?" Prowl asked quietly, doorwings beginning to tremble as tension built within his frame.

Jazz could only nod helplessly, caught in the throes of lust and impending need consuming all of him.

Prowl thrust almost brutally harder, the tip of his spike now pushing insistently against the end plate of Jazz's valve, where it would spiral open to a type of reproduction chamber. There, transfluid with spark energy would contribute to a sparkling conceived 'in heat' if such an event were to happen. Jazz clenched onto the desk even harder, imprints of his hands leaving their mark.

"Prowler," Jazz moaned. He was so, so close…almost there…

Prowl rammed home, making saboteur sob in delight as overload overtook him for the umpteenth time in the past week, clenching down hard, his frame banging uncontrollably on the desk as the rush overtook him.

Prowl gasped, his optics almost rolling back into his helm as his overload followed that of the bot he secretly loved. His release was hard and fast, making him shake with the force the overload had battered at his systems. Had he really not taken care of himself sexually? Obviously not if the warnings in his HUD were anything to go by. Be dismissed them without another thought, and contented himself with slumping down on Jazz's frame, nuzzling the moisture slicked neck cables in front of his vision.

The slightly smaller black and white savoured the warmth of another's frame at his back, the current of Prowl's vents tickling his plating. He wiggled, and Prowl shifted so that they were standing now, still pressed together from Jazz's back to where the Praxian still had his rod still embedded in Jazz's valve.

Prowl tightened his hold around the visored mech, hands clasping at the top of Jazz's waist and softly running his lips over Jazz's neck lines.

"Prowl," whispered Jazz.

In that one word, Prowl knew what the other black and white wanted. Sliding out and closing their panels for decency, Prowl led them out of his office and to his quarters, glad to encounter no one as they went. It would have been awkward and not needed. He got to his door and typed in the code faster than he'd ever had in his lifestream, palming the sensor once he did and stumbling in with Jazz behind him. It was Jazz's turn to nuzzle at the back of Prowl's neck, and his hands crept up to slowly stroke the sensitive doorwings.

Prowl hissed, arching back, his kneejoints weakening with sensation, but forced himself to turn around and take Jazz's hand, leading them to his berth. They went through his living room to a rather plush berthroom, the berth layered with pillows.

Jazz made an enquiring noise as he looked at the pillows, and Prowl chuckled.

"One of my indulgences. They are rather gentle on the doorwings," he said, pulling Jazz to him and kissing him again, his spark trilling with happiness at the connection it had been longing for.

Jazz purred back, delighting in the feel of plating against his own. The heat within was only sated by half, he still needed to be taken, he didn't care how, as long as Prowl was giving it to him, then for all Jazz was concerned, everything was right with the world. He dipped his glossa into Prowl's mouth, playing with his glossa before retreating and giving one last parting lick to a bottom lip before kissing his way down the elegantly arched neck to the Autobot symbol on Prowl's chest.

Prowl gasped harshly as Jazz's mouth tenderly worshipped his chest. It felt almost too good. _Primus_ Jazz knew how to work his glossa!

Knowing he would collapse if he didn't get on the berth, Prowl pulled Jazz back with him onto the berth, arranging them so he was sitting upright on a stack of pillows, while Jazz perched atop his hips in a kneeling position. Prowl could tell their second overload was not going to be as rushed as their first, and indulged in intimately touching Jazz. His hands had found where Jazz had liked to be touched earlier. He now used that knowledge to slowly start revving Jazz up again until they would ultimately be joined again.

When the Praxian threaded his digits into the easily stimulated sensor bundles in his chest and bumper, Jazz sighed and leaned forward so his helm was tucked just under Prowl's chinplate. In his lusty state, the saboteur mused that this interface session was shaping up to be the most tactile and wonderful yet. Never had he been with another so _concentrated_ in trying to bring him to overload, to make his circuits sing in pleasure to such a degree. He let out a few moans, softer than before, enjoying the simple touch of those skilled ivory fingers as they swirled, teased, lovingly stroked each sensor on his body they could find. Knowing lovemaking went both ways, Jazz used his own hands to stroke along Prowl's doorwings, flared wide on the pillows, and rubbing circles along the surface.

"Ah," the chevroned mech gasped softly, his touch becoming firmer on Jazz's smooth plating, causing the visored mech to tremble with the touches.

And then…

…Jazz clicked open his visor.

Prowl gaped in wonderment.

Never in the history of the Autobots had Jazz ever opened his visor in front of another. Prowl didn't know if it was because of the heat, or because of him, as one of Jazz's most trusted friends, that the usually mysterious saboteur did so.

And Prowl could see why Jazz wore it. His optics were scarred and half-blind. With tender reverence, Prowl traced around the sapphire optics, making sure Jazz wasn't showing any discomfort, before touching them directly.

Jazz didn't know why he did it either. But he did know that that soft touch on his damaged optics was the most wonderful feeling in the universe. Tender. Affection in every glide of those fingers over the damaged glass and receptors. Through his half-blindness, Jazz could see the soft smile on Prowl's usually emotionless faceplate, true care expressed. Somewhere in his processor where there was no heat fogging up his common sense, Jazz knew he wanted to see that expression again in the future, for it was too precious for it to be seen only once.

Seeing Jazz relax all his tense muscle cables, Prowl leaned forward and gently kissed each optic, before asking, "Can you leave your visor up? I want to see all of your face as you overload."

Jazz nodded, but was reminded of his growing need and ground down on Prowl's codpiece.

"Shh, lover. In good time," he breathed in reply, reaching a hand up to stroke one of Jazz's sensory horns. Jazz leaned into the touch. He could never tire of someone touching his sensory horns like that.

Prowl melded their lips together once more, never tiring of the way his emotions picked up and he felt light, like he was floating on air with each press of his lips to Jazz's. Every moment was made sweeter by the way Jazz's hands clung to him in desperation and want. Finally, he decided to grant Jazz's soundless plea and opened his panel, his spike rising once more to stab the air.

"Open," Prowl ordered softly, kissing an audio horn as Jazz purred in satisfaction.

The saboteur tucked his helm in the doorwinger's neck again and obediently opened his panel, feeling fluid slide down his hot channel to trickle across their hipplating. He absorbed their combined warmth, content to allow Prowl control their movements, focussing all his attention on enjoying the ride.

Prowl took the smooth black hips in his hands, guiding them to over his spike, before guiding them down, hissing as he felt the heat envelop him at a new angle. Jazz jerked a few times, before seating himself, Prowl's length buried within once more. He mewled at the contract, prompting Prowl to take his hands into his own, their chests touching and softly scraping over each other as they began to move as one. It wasn't so much thrusting as rocking together. They kissed, holding it and latching together at that point as their hands had latched together. Their breaths intermingled, the essence of one permeating the other. They made soft sounds of copulation into their kiss, gasps, pants and moans – all swallowed by the lovemaking of their mouths and glossas.

Prowl's spike slid in and out in a slow friction, setting off all the nodes in Jazz's valve in such a way that the saboteur felt like he was going to melt from the inside out. He squeezed the cables controlling the valve lining, managing to feel every glorious inch of that thick length.

Prowl shook slightly as he realised what a bittersweet moment this was. Here he was, loving Jazz, and yet, he didn't know if Jazz would want to do this again after the heat cycle ended. Would this be the only time he ever received this slice of heaven? Or would he experience it time and time again and be lost in the endless love that he held for the mech sitting astride his hips and slowly grinding their hips together?

Without knowing it, a coolant tear had slipped out of his optic.

Jazz pulled back from the kiss as he swivelled his hips on Prowl's spike, feeling something cool on his cheek. He disentangled a hand from one of Prowl's to cup the Praxian's cheek and kissed the tear, before kissing the golden centrepiece of Prowl's chevron in reassurance, before returning his lips to their rightful place. Prowl's mouth.

Prowl groaned. It was so beautiful, this moment, and he wished he could suspend it in the air, have them there forever. He let go of most of logic, of the knowledge of war and embraced Jazz tight to him, feeling Jazz's soft cry reverberate through their joined mouths.

Their over-sensitized bodies finally couldn't take the pleasure any more, and they overloaded together in such a gentle way. It didn't wrack their systems with shocks. Instead, it was like a river lapping at the edges of a bank, coming over them in soft ripples. Jazz's valve rippled in a variation of rhythms as he overloaded once more, lubricant slicking down his valve walls and over Prowl's spike, which was throbbing in release, tranfluid erupting into the warm, wet channel and slicking the valve even more with silver fluid.

And Prowl opened his optics at the last second to watch the gentle ecstasy flow over Jazz's facial expression. The mech without his visor was breathtakingly gorgeous.

Jazz finally slumped down on Prowl, rendered strutless by the soft, yet intense, overload he had just received.

Released from their liplock, Prowl stroked his hands over Jazz's back in a gentle fashion and nuzzled against the top of the helm with the stubby black horns.

"Beautiful," Prowl whispered.

Jazz made a tired purr of satisfaction, clinging closer to Prowl's plating.

"Don't want to move?" the doorwinger asked softly, a hint of a chuckle in his tone. Jazz shook his helm, burying it in further to Prowl's neckcables.

Prowl did chuckle this time, but tilted Jazz's helm up to bestow soft kisses on both the damaged optics, the tip of his nose, and his lips before settling him down again. "Rest then. Sweet recharge fluxes."

And Jazz felt himself slip slowly into the soothing darkness of recharge, and something within his spark told him that this felt _right_. He snuggled closer, feeling Prowl follow him into sweet, deserved rest.

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><p><strong>AN: SQUEEE! The fangirl in me died at reading this again to check for errors. I can't get enough of PxJ. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love them, and they support me in my time of difficult exams. Like you wouldn't **_**believe**_**. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews. It am frustrated by the fact that this website is not delivering the review alerts, but I feel so gratified by all the wonderful comments. I hope you like this one. And don't worry, there's even more after this.**

**You know my disclaimers.**

**EDIT*: I fixed up the spelling errors! I didn't notice cos my eyes feel like they've been rolled around in cornflakes and looking at the screen is killing me.**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 10**

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><p>In the dawn of a new day, a vocaliser in Prowl's quarters made a soft groan.<p>

As Jazz slowly booted up, he snuggled down into the warm frame beneath him, sighing in contentment.

Wait.

Warm frame?

Who on Earth did he have such a wild time with that he forgot such an occasion? But then again, Jazz mused as all his systems synchronised, he had only ever fragged others for a type of healing or to release pent up frustration ever since he realised he had grown attracted to Prowl. Slowly, Jazz onlined his optics.

And promptly began to panic inside.

For one thing: his visor was up, revealing his damaged optics to the air, unshielded by his visor. He _never_ did that. Ever. Why…?

But the second thing might have explained that. For Prowl was lying beneath him and had apparently been his pillow for the night. Jazz froze in shock. Surely if he had finally seduced Prowl, he would have remembered it? Jazz stilled, taking in the recharging form. Prowl was relaxed in recharge, a small smile on his face and…his spike still held within Jazz's valve. Jazz mewled at the feel.

Why couldn't he remember…?

And then like a dam wall broke, all the memories came flooding back.

Oh dear _Primus!_

He'd been in heat!

Heat!

Jazz groaned again, only mortification laced the sound. Ratchet, who had given him his first release, Blaster, who had taken him when he had been bold enough to sneak into his friend's quarters. Then seducing Inferno and getting a package deal with Red Alert, being the second mech Red Alert had ever been with. Mirage, who had teased and played with him in the middle of an empty hallway while invisible. The twins, who had done him over thoroughly and gave him the experience of having two spikes in his valve. Bluestreak…Primus, it would have been rape if not for the fact that Bluestreak had reciprocated – and had quite eagerly too. And then…oh _frag_…he had fragged Starscream and his trine. As good as it was…anyway. Then Optimus! Jazz's faceplates flushed as he realised Optimus had called Elita's name. Poor mech.

And Prowl.

Every clear detail of his two interfaces with Prowl etched himself in his memory banks. Their first, rushed one, and their second, most tender one. That was when he opened his visor, and when Prowl had shed a tear which he had kissed away.

"_Pit_," Jazz swore quietly, and thumped his helm down on Prowl's chestplate.

He instantly regretted it when Prowl began to shift under him, and as Prowl shifted, his spike shifted in Jazz's valve, slowly kindling the passion from last night as sensor nodes were stimulated yet again. Jazz gritted his denta, wishing he had not woken Prowl up. It felt too good. He stilled as Prowl finally booted up and his optics flickered online. The Praxian then made a garbled noise low in his vocaliser, still not completely with it. '_Pit!'_ Jazz swore again, but inwardly – for a slightly recharge disorientated Prowl was cute!

"Morning beautiful," Prowl mumbled. It was so good to have Jazz still here and lying upon him as if he belonged there.

Jazz made a small hum, but didn't dare say anything more. Prowl's voice saying those words was honey in his audios, and he didn't trust himself to speak and break Prowl's proverbial bubble.

Prowl chuckled softly and said, "This has got to be the best way I have ever woken up…great recharge too." A white hand reached up and stroked Jazz's helm, paying particular attention to the sensory horns. Jazz couldn't resist letting out a moan this time, but felt as his valve began to lubricate again as new spikes of arousal traversed his frame.

The saboteur then wished a hole would magically open and swallow him up as Prowl stopped his soft touches and felt the warming of the valve around his spike. A little grin stretched across his lips and he chuckled again, "Eager for more? You mechs in heat are insatiable."

Jazz shivered and unwillingly ground his hips down, hissing at the intimate contact. He could pull away and clue Prowl in, he could-

-but any protest he held was quashed when Prowl rolled them over so he was above Jazz and ground his length into the slickening folds around him. Jazz hissed again as overstimulated sensors sang out in pleasure. He wasn't in heat anymore! He could say no! But…_oh _it felt so good, so right, for Prowl to take him once more. So right for the mech he wanted to finally be with him. His hands flew up to embrace around Prowl's neck as his lover pulled out slightly and then pushed back in, testing to see if the valve was lubricated enough. Jazz gasped, feeling the tip of that wonderful spike rake over the intimate sensors deep within.

"Exquisite," Prowl mused aloud, propping himself up properly for ease of movement.

The doorwings on Prowl's back quivered in arousal, aching in his own need. Jazz was mesmerised by the movement, but nearly offlined in shock with Prowl's next actions.

For the tactician had craned his neck down to place two soft kisses on his damaged optics again, just as he did last night. A rush of affection overtook Jazz and he felt relief in the fact that Prowl didn't see him as a defective mech because of his flaw.

"Beautiful," Prowl whispered again.

And then the Praxian's hands were everywhere on his hotspots, tactically going from least to most sensitive and reducing Jazz to a puddle of melted circuits. While this was happening, the sensation of Prowl's length slowly, but steadily moving in and out deep within him fed itself to Jazz's spark and processor, new jolts of lust wracking his frame with each touch of the hands on his body, or the spike in valve.

"Prowler," gasped Jazz, mini-explosions popping up before his optics as Prowl began to move with efficient, firmer strokes – nowhere near hard and demanding, but constant and sure.

"Jazz," replied Prowl, nuzzling his nose against the other playfully.

Jazz's words died before they left his mouth, and sensation drowned any other coherent thoughts. There was nothing but sounds, visuals, and feel. His helm tipped back into the soft pillows, and the material brushed against his horns, feeding more pleasure data into him. With a groan, he hooked his legs around Prowl's hips, making the squeeze of his valve even tighter.

The next push of Prowl's hips in caused his optics to flicker.

"Yes…Prowler…more," Jazz groaned unsteadily.

Prowl pressed his lips against Jazz's own, muffling the wanton cry as he went a little faster, a little firmer. It was hard to keep control for too long, so the doorwinged mech tried to prolong the pleasure with every smooth stroke. Prowl was thoroughly enjoying the slightly smaller frame pressed up against his own, the pale thighs pressed around his hips to draw him deeper, the hands clutching, pinching and rubbing at his neck cabling and the pliant lips against his own. The subject of his fantasies was being played out so deliciously…it was a wonderful feeling and Prowl felt like he was floating.

"Jazz," gasped Prowl, breaking off and burying his helm in the warm shoulder – the one he had bitten last night – and continued to glide in and out of the valve, feeling the tightening around his abdominal cables that indicated he was close to overloading, and the tightness of the warm walls around his spike – almost painfully tight – that indicated Jazz was too.

"Unnn, babe," moaned Jazz, feeling his lover swivel his hips around get his spike to hit every sensor node dead on.

Prowl just panted and gasped, obviously trying to keep control. Seeing this, Jazz smirked and slid a hand down Prowl's shoulder and to a doorwing, activating a light mag-pulse.

The reaction was instantaneous. Prowl's systems, bearing the full brunt of all the sensations as they drowned him, overloaded, and overloaded hard, jets of transfluid streaming out of his rigid spike to fill Jazz with his essence. His face was an open expression of pleasure, optics bright and neck arched. It almost made Jazz overload from the sight as Prowl cried out, shouting Jazz's name. He flopped down, spent, but raised his helm and asked softly, "You didn't overload, did you?"

Jazz shook his helm, but a satisfied smile was on his face. He had always, always wanted to see how mag-pulses affected doorwings. He just got his answer.

Prowl frowned and began to move down Jazz's body, lightly touching parts of his panelling that hid some of the most delicate and pleasurable sensors, keeping Jazz revved up as he slithered down further on the berth, coming to rest at Prowls pelvic area with his still open panel.

Jazz was confused at first as to what Prowl was doing, but the gasped as Prowl's hot ex-vents from his mouth ghosted over the trembling entrance of his valve, which was slowly leaking out Prowl's silvery transfluid. His gasp turning into a cry as the chevroned mech between his legs gave a darting, broad lick to the entrance, making him clutch his hands into the sheets of the berth. So sensitive was his valve that he knew that a few licks and he'd be gone, swept away in the overload.

Prowl smirked at the reaction, kissing around the valve before licking again, purring, "Delicious…we taste good together."

That made Jazz shudder in ecstasy.

Prowl then eased his glossa in and clamped his hands down on the black hips as Jazz wailed. Ooh, the saboteur was very close, valve spiralling down hard on his glossa in want. Deciding not to leave the poor mech hanging, the tactician began to move his glossa furiously, flicking against the top nodes, laving against the bottom ones and sucking gently for extra sensation. Not even a minute of this decadent treatment and Jazz overloaded, his spill mingling with the rest of Prowl's and delivering the fluids onto Prowl's waiting glossa.

Jazz thrashed his helm and cried out incoherently. Primus, Prowl was good with that glossa. He was pretty good with everything actually. Somewhere Jazz noted it might have been because he was a tactician.

Prowl licked up every drop of lubricant and transfluid, purring low in his vocaliser as he did so, before cleaning them both up quickly and moving up to lay side by side with a very sated Jazz.

"Mmm," moaned Prowl as Jazz took his lips with his own, their glossa's sliding against the other and sharing the combined taste.

Jazz smirked, "Ya're right. We do taste good together."

Prowl smiled back, wrapping around Jazz's waist and sighing happily, "I'm kind of glad you are in heat actually. It's made it easier to…well…convince me about something. To tell you how I feel. And there's an innocence about you. Like the special ops bot is hiding somewhere."

Jazz winced, but knew it wouldn't be right _not_ to clue Prowl in. Clearing his vocaliser, he blurted, "Ah'm not in heat anymore."

Jazz winced again as he felt, more than saw, Prowl's smile vanish and his frame tense. Regret washed over him, but he knew it had to be done. Time to be truthful.

"Since when?" came Prowl's strained reply.

"Erm…kinda since ah woke up," replied Jazz, smiling a bit sheepishly.

Prowl moved so fast Jazz was sure he pulled a cable or two, shooting off the berth to stand awkwardly next to the it, back to Jazz and those glorious doorwings held tensely still except for the occasional twitch. "Jazz…that means I shouldn't of. That is, I took advantage of you just then, you weren't in heat – you didn't need it," he said, voice even more strained.

Jazz leapt off the berth, grunting as he did so and said matter-of-factly, "Prowl, Ah'm an ops mech. With ya in a relaxed state, if Ah didn't want it, Ah'd have let ya know." He rounded the berth and stood in front of the other black and white, who was stubbornly not looking at him, and cupped his cheek before saying in a softer tone, "Ah wanted it. Ah know ya wanted it. Don't do this to yaself Prowler."

Prowl sighed and leaned into the black hand, nuzzling softly against it and said quietly, "Then you'll know that I love you."

Jazz smiled, even with his faulty optics he could see those doorwings sag in relaxation. "Yeah, I kinda guessed. No otha mech'd probably react the way ya did to my optics. And then…ya'll know Ah love ya right back."

Prowl smirked and replied, echoing Jazz's words, "I kind of guessed. The only mech I knew you'd ever open your visor to is someone you care about. Unless it's medical of course."

They both laughed and the familiarity from each other came back, but the tone had changed. Friendship gave way to something more. To affection and newly acknowledged love. Jazz leaned forward, nestling against Prowls neck as warm arms embraced him and held tight.

"How long have ya loved me Prowler?" asked Jazz, tone uncommonly gentle.

"I began to have feelings for you about 100 years before we left Cybertron, and I think I realised that it had developed into something more powerful a few months after we woke up here on Earth," Prowl mused, stroking his thumb over his lover's plating on his lower back.

Jazz grinned, chuckling, "Man, ya got nothin' on me mech. Ah've wanted ya for about 200,000 years."

Prowl blanched visibly and said, "Was I that oblivious?"

The saboteur shrugged in reply, "Well, Ah kinda knew you weren't ready. That Ah couldn't force ya or be overt even if ah wanted to. But yeah, ya were kinda oblivious."

Prowl rolled his optics at the grin, but quipped dryly, "Now we've got our obvious sexual tension out of the way, it might be proper if I actually ask you out on a date."

Jazz laughed and replied, "Sounds good to me."

He took Prowl's arms from around his body, saying, "Ah better go see the Hatchet. See if the heat's really gone and all." He clicked down his visor, depriving Prowl of gazing into those treasured, cheeky optics for the time being. As he took a first step, he hissed with slight pain and his step turned into a waddle. Prowl was torn between wincing in sympathy and laughing at the sight of Jazz as all the sensors in his valve finally came out of their heat state and began to realise just how many interface's he had.

"Prowl…could ya give a mech a hand here?" he asked, keeping still. No one ever said anything about the slight soreness in their interface region after the fact!

"Of course," Prowl acquiesced, pressing his side up against Jazz and abruptly picking him up bridal style.

"Oi!" Jazz said, not entirely impressed with the method Prowl had chosen.

"Humor me Jazz," Prowl said with a dry smirk, "Besides it takes more pressure off your valve so it won't hurt on the way there."

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><p>After the CMO had laughed himself silly at Prowl carrying Jazz to the medbay and the subsequent waddle to the berth, he got down to business while the 2IC went to go get his and Jazz's morning energon. Ratchet's hands were applying some gel to Jazz's valve, which was now dry – the normal state when not aroused. The gel slid easily so he wouldn't hurt Jazz more. It was both a cooling and numbing gel, giving Jazz instant relief.<p>

"I knew you and Prowl were going to end up together," stated Ratchet, finishing off and wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

"Yeah, well, Ah was kinda hopin' that something would bring us together sooner or later. Kinda glad it was this," replied Jazz, shutting his panel and relaxing.

"Hmpf," grunted Ratchet, before saying, "I'm going to perform a check up on you. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Stupidity," quipped the medic, getting a spark scanner off the shelf first before hooking into Jazz's systems with the scanner and beginning the scan.

Prowl re-entered then, two cubes of fresh energon in his hands as he approached the berth. Jazz smiled fondly, glad to finally admit what he felt for so long, He had to say, though, that Prowl had a sort of glow about him. He was more relaxed, seemingly more at peace. It was a good change to see in his lover.

The scanner beeped.

As Ratchet analysed the readings, Jazz took the cube and winked the side of his visor. Prowl opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Ratchet's sharp curse.

"Slag heat to the pit, back, and down to the depths again!" Ratchet swore, frowning at the readings before looking sharply at Jazz.

"What's up Hatch?" asked Jazz, a little warily. Ratchet only used that curse for the twins.

"Some idiot turned off their SEM when they overloaded inside of you," Ratchet huffed, rubbing his forehelm in a gesture of exasperation.

"…Come again? Ah think ya just said-"

"You're sparked, Jazz," said Ratchet, folding his arms and glaring into space.

Jazz, who had felt so light and floaty, felt like all the elation had been sucked right out of him. Sparked? He was going to have a sparkling? Well, it wouldn't be too bad if not for the fact he was looking forward to being with Prowl after so long of waiting. What if it was the Seeker's? Or the twins? What would his new lover think of that?

Or it could be Prowl himself.

Jazz frowned. Prowl wouldn't do that. No way. He'd think it'd be illogical to turn off the SEM inside of an in heat mech. This was war, no place to raise a sparkling in. Jazz looked up.

Prowl's face was blank. Too blank. Right now, Jazz wished he could have Soundwave's ability to read processors so he could see exactly what Prowl was thinking. A bout of insecurity hit him. Would Prowl be disgusted?

"Ratchet…are you going to test each mech that had…relations with Jazz to see who would be the creator?" Prowl asked, tone clear and voice even.

Ratchet thought about it, and answered, "Yes. Coding is always strong regardless of stage of development. Give me a second, I got some specific sparkling spark scanners out in the storeroom." And he left.

"Well, this is awkward…" mumbled Jazz.

He felt a touch on his hand and Prowl's fingers twined with his and squeezed gently. He raised his gaze to find Prowl with a small, reassuring smile. "It'll be fine Jazz. Besides…I have a hunch. Something that…anyway, I think we'll prepare for everything. Together." Jazz instantly felt light with the words, and he reached up to give Prowl a soft kiss.

"Ahem," Ratchet cleared his vocaliser loudly, making the two black and white's break off.

"Honestly Ratch, ya really know how to ruin a mood," teased Jazz.

"Yeah yeah. I've heard it before," he grumbled, switching the new scanner on before holding it over Jazz's chestplates and also plugging it into a data port near his neck. There was silence for a few minutes, before a soft chirp and the machine finished. Ratchet found the sparkling code, isolated it, and unplugged the machine. As he saved the sparkling code into his databanks, he got a comm. from the tactician standing next to him.

::Can you please check my SEM system? Some error readings came up last night and I dismissed them:: came the cool request.

Without displaying any outward sign of emotion, Ratchet commed back ::You do realise I want to slag you right now if you are saying what you think you're saying::

::It was an honest accident if my hunch is correct::

::Do I even want to know what percentage your logical processor is putting out right now about the fact you may be a creator?:: As he commed this, he mentioned for Prowl to get on the berth, much to the confusion of Jazz as he did not know of their exchange and watched as Ratchet plugged the spark scanner into Prowl's systems.

::Not really, no. But you shouldn't worry. You know I'm a mech of my word. Even if the sparkling is not mine I will still act like it is. Besides, it doesn't take away my feelings. You of all mechs should know that:: Prowl replied mildly. He was, of course, referring to the uneasy initial courtship between Wheeljack and Ratchet. Between Wheeljack blowing himself up and his low standing with the mechs of the senate before the war and Ratchet's temper and lack of care for stuffy government, their romance was legendary among the Autobot ranks. And yet they were still together.

The scanner beeped.

Jazz tensed. The moment of truth.

"You slagger," whispered Ratchet to Prowl, "You're SEM has been broken since we crashed here!"

"Is that your backward way of saying, congratulations, you're a creator?" Prowl smirked dryly.

Ratchet shook his helm, sighing, "No, that's my way of saying go spend some time with Jazz coming up with a few names. Have some peace and then _after_ a few days I'll fix your blasted SEM. Go on, get!"

Jazz was slightly shocked. Prowl…Prowl was the creater…cos his SEM was _broken_? That was one to tell the sparkling when it grew up. _'See the thing is sweetspark, we actually didn't mean to have you_. _It was a birth control glitch._' Yeah…sure. He was numb from the knowledge, and didn't realise that Prowl had led them from the medbay and to Prowl's quarters until he was sitting on the berth. A touch on his shoulder roused him, and his vision adjusted to see Prowl, kneeling before him, solemn expression on his face.

"Are you mad at me? I know this wasn't exactly how I thought today would go, but I wouldn't change the knowledge I'm a creator for a thing," Prowl said softly, loosely taking hold of Jazz's hand again.

Jazz sighed, "Ah don't know. Ah mean, it's wonderful and all to be able to have a sparklin', especially with ya, but Ah kinda figured after the war, ya know?" Jazz smiled though, taking Prowl's hand in both of his own, "And Ah've always wanted a sparklin', a little one to call my own with the mech Ah love. Maybe even more than one, a big bunch, a big family. It's been the dream, babe, as corny as it sounds."

The Praxian mech cupped his face and repeated, "But you're not mad? It's my fault after all."

With more confidence, Jazz replied, "Nah, not at all Prowler. Ah've known ya for such a long time we practically are an old bonded couple. But bein' with ya is kinda unconventional. Strange for such a logical mech." His tone turned teasing, "Just think, ya 'faced and knocked me up and we haven't even gone on the first date. Ah mean, pretty impressive."

Prowl laughed with his lover and got up from his kneel to lie on the berth next to Jazz. Having him in his arms at last felt good.

And the knowledge that he was going to be a creator with the mech he loved made him oddly proud.

"Love ya Prowler," said Jazz.

"Love you Jazz," replied Prowl.

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><p><strong>AN: Ohmigosh, this is almost done! I really wanted to give you guys this chapter, so I thought, "to hell with Liberalism, Prowl and Jazz smut and fluffiness needs me more!"**

**Please review…you know I love em ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: No, this is not the end yet ;)Also, a warning of some violence. You know all my disclaimers.**

**On another note: OMG WITH THIS CHAPTER I'M GOING TO GET OVER 100 REVIEWS IN TOTAL! SQUEE! Love you all!**

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><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 11**

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><p>"You know what just occurred to me Prowl?"<p>

"What, Ratchet?"

"How on Earth did you miss the SEM check up that I did on almost all the Autobots? Surely then I would have been able to fix the SEM," asked Ratchet, concentrating on a line of glitched code on his terminal – which was connected into Prowl's main systems – that had contributed the breakdown of Prowl's SEM.

Prowl thought carefully for a moment, turning over the events of the past two weeks and finally answering, speaking thoughtfully, "Because you were too busy running around after most of the other mechs, I believe that you somehow missed me. And it did not help that every time you managed to schedule me on, I was either worked a shift for the mech that Jazz was with, or I was too engrossed in my own work that Optimus cautioned you from coming near me. And it is my own fault that I was not diligent enough to take the initiative to come and see you."

Ratchet snorted.

Prowl's optics narrowed slightly, before he said tersely, "Sorry for being concerned that the mech I had wanted for a while had suddenly turned into a quivering bunch of wet wires and hormonal circuits drive."

Ratchet then laughed, "Just you wait. I know you said earlier that all you and he have done for the past three days it just talk about important things and him moving into your quarters, but just you wait. Soon, he'll either start purging or start wanting to interface with you as much as he did during the heat cycle."

Prowl's expression remained impassively calm as he queried, "And why is that?"

With a knowing grin, Ratchet finished the fresh coding, implanting it, before saying, "They are two most prominent of the classic symptoms of carriers of new sparks. They will either purge energon, or be – in all essentials – horny as pit."

Shuttering his optics calmly, the doorwinged mech replied, "I'm sure Jazz and I will cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Hmm, are you sure? Beca-"

"DECEPTICON ATTACK! Every mech roll out, Prime's out the front!"

Prowl's battle computer took over immediately, disconnecting the wires hooked into his processor to fix the code – which was now no longer faulty thanks to Ratchet – and hurrying out of the medbay, barking orders through the comms as he went.

Megatron was attacking again.

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><p>Prowl ducked under a volley of laser fire coming down hard from Soundwave's cassette's. He grunted, re-loading his acid pellet cartridge for the second time. It seemed like the Decepticons had been freshly rejuvenated and ready for this battle. With dirt flying around him, Prowl leapt up, firing up at the sky, feeling satisfaction when the flying cassettes – being Buzzsaw, Laserbeak and Ratbat – took an acid pellet each and retreated towards their creator, who was grappling with a teasing Blaster.<p>

With a quick look around, Prowl checked on Jazz, who was doing rather remarkably against Scrapper and Hook.

A roar echoed around the battlefield, and Prowl turned just in time to see Optimus get thrown across to where Jazz was now successfully handcuffing two of the Constructicons, a smoking hole in his lower abdomen. Jazz, seeing his leader in pain, rushed over to him and began a quick patch.

But Prowl's spark stilled with horror as the Decepticon warlord jumped, using his flying boosters to land a few meters away from where the saboteur was helping with the groaning in pain Optimus. Without knowing it, Prowl began to run.

Megatron cackled, and Jazz looked behind, shielding Optimus's body with his own.

"Perfect!" Megatron proclaimed, "I will slay both Prime and the saboteur who has been a thorn in my plating ever since you joined the Autobots!"

Jazz's optics behind his optics widened in fear.

He would not move, out of duty and loyalty to his Prime…but as the fusion cannon charged up and pointed at him, Jazz found himself wanting to cry for the sparkling who would certainly be killed along with him when the blast hit his spark. His sparkling. Prowl's sparkling. Their sparkling…and it would never see the light of day. All his attention was focused on the humming fusion cannon, the red and purple light flickering. He wished that he would see this through, but a blast at this proximity…

"Jazz, move," groaned Optimus weakly, trying to push him out of the way.

"It's been an honour, Prime," the black and white answered steadily, not belying his terror.

"Say goodbye, Autobot!" yelled Megatron. He curled his fist inward to fire-

"**NO!"**

Prowl screamed in defiance, and launched himself at the large grey mech, vaguely noting the look of shock on his face before he knocked him down with the force of his rage. There was a odd, orange haze in his optics, his hands seeming to turn into claws as he ripped into the plating below him, tearing it away, revealing the softer protoform metal and various wires, tubes, and cables. He grunted as Megatron punched him, but didn't relent, retaliating with a series of impacting punches to Megatron's face, helm and shoulders. He methodically disabled most of the motor relays, tearing out handfuls of wires and tubing as he went, not noticing his enemy's energon being lightly spattered on his frame. When his opponent was in too much of a daze of pain, Prowl released a primal yell and twisted the fusion cannon off the warlords arm.

Megatron howled, but didn't have the strength to lift his arm and take it back, he growled at the Praxian, who was now standing above him, wings flared out in dominance.

"You ever threaten my mate or sparkling's lives ever again, and I will kill you," Prowl stated coldly. It wasn't just a threat. It was a fact. Megatron said nothing, gritting his teeth, but nodded slightly, conceding defeat to the bundle of anger that was Prowl.

"Decepticons, RETREAT!" shouted Megatron, woozily heaving himself up, mentioning to Soundwave who came over and helped his leader up before they and the rest of the Decepticon's fled, half in obedience, half in fear from the psychotic display of the Autobot's lead tactician.

Prowl, seeing them go, nodded in satisfaction, and turned around, seeing the whole of the Autobot army here staring at him with wide optics.

"Whoa…way to go Prowler," Jazz said softly, a half-grin on his face, admiring the view of Prowl, doorwings so wide and dominant, his heaving frame – which was paint scratched and slightly dented in places where Megatron had tried (and mostly failed) to land a hit. It was oddly arousing.

Prowl walked calmly to him, taking his hand and bringing it up to his mouth, laying a light kiss over the knuckles, not caring for his audience.

"He was going to deactivate you. I couldn't let that happen," Prowl whispered softly.

Jazz wanted to melt.

"All right, all right, you can frag him later, let me through so I can get to Prime!" Ratchet called out, making his way through the crowd, who were starting to chatter and gossip, while helping others.

Jazz sighed in frustration, calling back to Ratchet, "Ah've said it once, Ah'll say it again. Ratchet, ya really know how to ruin a mood."

The medic chuckled, as did Optimus, who was finally being tended to by a proper medic. Jazz's rushed patch job worked, but it was relieving to have Ratchet inject him with a neuron line suppressor. The leader looked over to his friends and sub-commanders, retracting his mask to give them a tired smile in blessing, before replacing and dropping into a forced recharge.

Jazz turned to Prowl, who looked at him in the same time, optics to visor.

Without speaking, they both transformed simultaneously, knowing exactly what they wanted to do when they were cleared by the CMO.

* * *

><p>"Prowl," gasped Jazz, feeling those lips suckle on a sensitive cable just below his left audio slowly and sensually, curling and stroking along it. The visored mech was currently pressed up against Prowl's berthroom door by the other warm black and white frame, who was taking his time in ravishing his neck with his mouth and glossa. Feeling the hot mouth against his dermal plating made him shudder deliciously. Their vents were on and working hard, energon was rushing through their bodies as arousal mounted.<p>

Prowl licked up to his lover's jaw, before saying firmly, optics shining bright with protectiveness, "My Jazz. My sparkling. My future bondmate." He laid his hand over Jazz's chestplates, on the blue stripe on the hood of his altmode.

"Ya mean it?" Jazz asked happily, retracting his visor for the only mech he would ever do it for.

"Certainly," replied the tactician confidently, leaning and claimed Jazz's lips, glossa already asking for permission before the saboteur gave it, glossa meeting in confirmation of the promise and spark felt desire.

Jazz felt his spike press against his panel, lubricant slicking down his valve, but hissed when the lubricant got to a certain point in his valve and slid upon some raw feeling sensors.

"Babe, Ah'd love to have ya in me, but Ah'm still kinda sore," explained Jazz when Prowl noticed his discomfort.

Prowl's doorwings twitched, and Jazz knew that was Prowl's 'plotting twitch,' which meant his lover was up to something. The datsun backed away so he was sitting on the edge of their berth, spreading his legs so his panel was in Jazz's full view, as best as the mech could see with half-scarred optics. Jazz felt the anticipation throb through his spark. Prowl then smirked, slowly opening his panel. His spike slid out smoothly, and his valve was bared, and by the looks of it, he was beginning to slicken up nicely.

The saboteur licked his lips, feasting on the sight, before moving to kneel before his lover, wrapping his arms around him, hands lightly caressing the bottom of the majestic doorwings. He pressed his helm forward into Prowl's chest, and simply inhaled, taking in Prowl's unique scent. He couldn't get enough.

Prowl had said the smell of his lubricant when he was in heat was delicious. Jazz disagreed.

Just the aroma of Prowl was the most wonderful and reassuring thing in the world. Metallic, as all Cybertronian's were, but there was the smell of rich energon, sweet oils and something that was uniquely Prowl. The slightly smaller black and white couldn't put a name to it, but it made him feel wanted and safe. He felt the warm weight of Prowl's hand stroke down his helm and neck tenderly, and he melted again.

"I love you," Jazz whispered, forcing his accent to stay at bay for one sentence. He wanted, for once, to say it completely right.

"As I love you," Prowl replied, tilting Jazz's faceplates up to him to gift him with a smile, before kissing him again.

Prowl could never get enough of Jazz.

Jazz ran his hands continuously over Prowl's doorwings, gently setting off the sensors as he explored. This was the first time since they found out about the sparkling that they would interface, and the other three times had not given Jazz ample opportunity for seeing what made Prowl melt into a puddle of shivering circuits. He circled nodes with his fingertips, making Prowl moan loudly into their joined lips.

Jazz smirked, deciding to move down his lover's frame to the headlights, pulling back to watch in fascination how Prowl's facial expressions morphed as pleasure was derived from his hands.

The chevroned mech panted, feeling those talented digits light up sensors that had been long forgotten about. He gasped as Jazz pinched the headlights gently, his fingers squeaking on the glass.

"Jazz, please," Prowl gasped, his hands clenching in handfuls of the berth cover.

"Please…what?" the saboteur purred, coquettish grin making a typical appearance.

The other black and white undulated his frame, arching his back and spreading his legs wider to display his needy interface equipment, which was within tactile distance of Jazz's own array, spike's bobbing enticingly close to each other – Prowl's was slightly longer, but Jazz's was slightly thicker - the smell of lubricant hanging heavy in the air between them. He leaned back onto the berth, submitting himself at his lover's mercy, allowing himself to be vulnerable and trusting. His light blue optics were locked on Jazz's azure ones, that gaze communicating more than words.

Jazz leaned over Prowl, kissing at the chestplates, his abdomen, and down to the rigid spike. He smiled in memory of Prowl taking him over the desk (they would _never_ take those hand imprints out) and then twice in the berth, this very berth they were on now. He breathed out over the length, making it twitch, and the bent down and ran his glossa from the base to the tip, before swirling it around the head.

Prowl groaned, hands fisting more in the covers as heavy thrums of desire ripped through him.

Jazz grinned at the reaction, before swallowing half the length abruptly, creating a strong suction with his mouth and expertly swiping his glossa on the underside of the hot metal. He pulled off languorously, content with the heavy feel of the spike on his glossa, and the unrestrained gasps and pants of his lover, who was fighting not to cry out with each lazy pull of his mouth. Jazz let his mouth do the work, instead using his hands to weave into the wires in Prowl's hip seams and stroke them, compounding Prowl's arousal.

"Ggguuuhhh," Prowl ground out, optics flashing brighter, as Jazz took him in deeper so that the tip of his spike brushed against his intake, and he could feel the wires and tubing mimic a valve and clench down on him.

Jazz drew off, so that the tip was leaning against his lip as he spoke, "Babe, ya looked so hot when ya were pummelin' the livin' daylights out of ol' Megsy. Simply gorgeous."

Prowl's answer in reply was caught in his vocaliser as Jazz took him all the way in again, slowly bobbing up and down the metal of his spike. He could feel the hot, wet suction of Jazz's mouth so perfectly, and he jerked his hips involuntarily, letting out a long, low moan of, "JJaaaazzzzzzz," as he overloaded, lust wracking through his frame as hot liquid erupted into the mouth still fixed around him.

Prowl panted, gaze fixed on Jazz as his gently massaged his spike down from overload. He could feel his own liquid still in his lover's mouth as those wonderful lips moved against him to bring him back down to Earth.

Jazz gave one last lick to the tip and swallowed the thick silver liquid, feeling it slide down his intake and to his tank. He pulled off, leaving sticky strings on Prowl's half-masted length. Jazz tucked the spike back in it's housing once he was done, and the upper panel came down to cover it.

"Delicious," the saboteur purred, while Prowl just slumped back, unable to say anything from the onslaught of pleasure.

Jazz laughed at the sight, and leaned up to press his lips to Prowl's chevron, saying, "What's the matter babe?"

Prowl groaned, "I have a lover who wants to offline me by giving me processor blowing overloads." Jazz chuckled, and Prowl's mouth quirked up at one side in a lazy smirk in response to the laughter. The unvisored saboteur trailed back down again to where his lover's legs were wide open, and kneeled down, pressing a fingertip to the edge of the valve lining.

Prowl offlined his optics, faceplates scrunching up as Jazz touched him in a place that he hadn't been touched by another for millions of years.

"Prowler?" Jazz asked, optic ridges set in a slight frown at the tensed up muscle cables.

"I haven't been entered for 2 million years, Jazz, not counting the 4 million in stasis here on Earth," the copbot said quietly, a trickle of loneliness from all those years sweeping through him.

"Aw, babe," cooed Jazz, running his hands down Prowl's silver/grey thighs, "Here, this might help." He turned on the mag pulses in his hands, making sure they were on a light setting, before sweeping them from Prowl's ankles to the tops of his thighs and brushing lightly over his valve. Prowl made a slight squeal at the sensation, before he gritted his denta and flung his helm from side to side, wanting, but seeming as if he didn't know how to move in the right moments. Jazz soothed him, laying kisses and licks slowly on his thighs and around his valve opening, just taking in the sensations. Prowl smelt rich and slightly sweet, almost musky, and it appealed to the saboteur, whose sharpest sense apart from his hearing was his smell.

"Aahn," Prowl moaned as Jazz's finger swirled a wide circle over his entrance, then tightening it, before he slid the fingertip in. His valve entrance tightened over the fingertip, and making Jazz widen his optics.

"Nnn, Prowler, with you this tight, it's gonna be like yer first time," said Jazz. His spike twitched at the thought of being inside the doorwinged mech.

"Please," whispered Prowl, optics onlining with a flash of white before going to their light blue.

Jazz stood up, frowning softly, "Prowler, darlin', ya're not prepared yet."

Prowl growled softly, "I don't care. I need you. Now."

Jazz slid his arms around Prowl's body, hefting him up slightly to re-position him on the berth so that Prowl was up on his plush pillows, legs apart, valve glistening in the low light of the room, casting a sensual tint to Prowl's black and white plating, and giving his crimson chevron an exotic look. The saboteur gently pushed his finger in, stubbornly going against what Prowl wanted, but went fast, making sure the channel was slick, sensor nodes perfectly lit up by his touch. He added another two fingers, scissored (finding it very difficult to resist spreading Prowl wide and taking him like an animal with the way his lover was moaning) and withdrew. Prowl wrapped his legs around his waist, hands coming to rest on Jazz's shoulders in a gesture of trust.

"Take me," Prowl breathed, optics firmly looking into Jazz's optics.

For Jazz, it seemed like he was looking into his soul.

"Prowler…Ah'd love to."

Keeping their gaze fixed on each other's optics, they moved as one, Jazz slowly rolling his hips in, slow bit by slow bit of his thicker spike sliding into its home of Prowl's wet heat. They gasped together, Jazz's arms trembling as he held himself up, while Prowl's whole frame shook, his muscle cables controlling his valve lining tightening and clenching down. He didn't have enough motor control at the time to ripple them.

"Beautiful," the Praxian mech breathed out, a trembling hand moving from Jazz's shoulder to his optics and tracing around them.

Jazz kissed the fingertips and whispered back, "Gorgeous." Prowl smiled up at him.

The slightly smaller black and white shifted slightly, pulling his spike only a fraction out before pressing back in, feeling the sensors in his length get soaked and stimulated by the tight wetness of his lover's valve walls. He gasped, leaning his helm on Prowl's shoulder, before repeating the process, slipping out a little further with each slow push and pull motion of his hips.

"Jazz," moaned Prowl, faceplate's heating up and a pink energon tint to his cheekplates appeared as desire inundated him.

"Yeah, babe, Ah love it when ya say my name," Jazz whispered, too enveloped in the sensation of being one with Prowl to raise his voice higher.

Prowl whimpered in pleasure, clutching Jazz to him as those hips began to work smoothly in and out as his valve lubricated even more – allowing for an nice easy, yet pleasurable, glide over his sensors. It took all his strength not to scream Jazz's name to the ceiling as the tip of the spike gently raked over his innermost sweetspot. He bit his lower lip so hard that a trickle of energon escaped from the dent.

Jazz noticed and cupped his cheek, slowing his easy thrusts, and turned Prowl's helm to face him. "Prowler, Ah don't care how loud ya are, 's long as it's me who's makin' ya scream," he mumbled soothingly, pressing their forehelms together. He then restarted his pace, going just that little bit faster in the unused valve to make Prowl hold so tight to Jazz's forearms that they dented slightly, and for the usually stoic mech to erupt in a series of mewls, whimpers and moans. Jazz's name spilled into those sounds, and the saboteur could not get enough.

"Oh, Prowler, do that again!" exclaimed Jazz as Prowl clenched rhythmically from top to bottom and back again, the variation causing the tightness at the base of his back strut to coil tighter.

Prowl could only nod helplessly as Jazz sped up again, thrusts becoming harder and faster, yet with the same smoothness as before, filling him, completing him. Now Prowl had himself a dilemma. He couldn't decide whether he liked spiking Jazz over _being_ spiked. He mewled again, feeling those harder, rocking thrusts treat his valve just right. The sensors embedded in the walls sang with sensation as he did the clench Jazz had so enjoyed again. He could feel every last inch of the hot metal within him, and it was going to spin his sensors into overload any second now.

"C'mon babe," breathed Jazz, feeling that valve clench around him, impossibly tight, once more.

"Jazz, yes….nnggh," Prowl moaned. He was so close! So close to feeling Jazz essence fill him.

Jazz bucked his hips in sharply, and sent Prowl cascading into overload.

"JAZZ!" yelped Prowl, optics going white as his overload, cry echoing around the room. Lubricant flowed out and coated both his valve lining and his spike, before slicking down across their thighs. He trembled, hands shakingly clenching on Jazz's pristine plating, processor whirling from the force of his overload.

Jazz, feeling and seeing Prowl's overload (which, Jazz swore, was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen), thrust harder into the sensitised channel, grunting as the walls rippled spasmodically down on him. The tip of his spike pressed against the valve end plate, and it tipped him over the edge and he fell into the bliss of overload.

"Prowler!" cried Jazz, slamming in and holding still through his overload, spike acting like a cork to keep all his hot transfluid from his climax deep within. It was his turn to shake, his arms threatening no t to support his weight.

When he felt he could move, Jazz gently drew out of his panting lover and flopped down on his side facing Prowl beside him. He panted as well, coming down from his high, but moved anyway so that he was cuddled up along the tactician's side, feeling his warm body and the slight thrum from the beat of his spark. He flung an arm around Prowl's waist in the same moment that Prowl slid an arm around Jazz's shoulders and drew him in, leaning their helms together.

"Was it as satisfying for you as it was for me?" Prowl asked, stroking his thumb across Jazz's shoulder wheel.

"Only satisfyin'?" Jazz asked teasingly.

"Oh, more than that, and you know it. Processor blowing and spark throbbing, would be more apt then," Prowl replied, little content smile on his face.

"In that case, yep. Totally. Ah have a feelin' that, sparklin' or no, we're gonna be spending a lot of time on this berth," Jazz smirked, holding Prowl tighter.

Instead of rolling his optics like he would usually do, Prowl laughed, Jazz joining in. After a bit of cuddling, they both slipping into reacharge.

But they never knew what the future would bring.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: THIS IS NOT THE LAST! There is an epilogue after this, which is going to be fluffy. So much fluffy you might be a little sick. But be warned, it's not the birth of their sparkling.**

**Please review! I love you all. I really do.**


	12. Chapter 12: Epilogue

**A/N: Ok folks, last chapter. This is set in the future, on a restored Cybertron. There will be a sequel of sorts, it will be a collection of one-shots about the evolution of Prowl and Jazz's lives from their 1****st**** to their…*number* sparkling. Just a small warning. LOTS OF FLUFF! And offspring XD**

**Note**: _Time: Vorn = year, decacycle = two weeks, orn = day, joor = hour, klik = minute, astrosecond = second (cos I'm too lazy to do Cybertronian times)._

* * *

><p>"<strong>Heat? What do you mean I'm in Heat?"<strong>

**Chapter 12 – Epilogue**

* * *

><p>Jazz waltzed happily into his house, no, <em>home<em>, humming loudly. It had been a great day, even more so than usual. His part-time gig at the _Rendezvous_ day club had been even better today, the crowd was more receptive, more involved with his performance as _The Meister_. It had also been refreshing to bask in the warm sunlight, thanking Primus once more that Cybertron was returned to its rightful place in orbit around Alpha Centauri. Taking off the disguise he wore as a performer, Jazz reflected on another reason why this day was so special – it was for a number of reasons.

Firstly, it was his and Prowl's 1000th anniversary of being bondmates. Which also meant it was their eldest's 1000th sparkday. Which meant she and her bonded were coming here for a private celebration.

And not only that…he and Prowl had a surprise for all their creations.

Jazz smiled as he thought about that. Yes…creations. He had got his wish fulfilled, and he and the love of his life together created a big, loving family - even through the drama and issues, they stuck together through thick and thin. Finally shucking off his disguise plating and putting it in the closet on the right side of the large hallway, the visored mech stopped at the foot of a set of wide stairs, placing his hands on his hips.

Grinning loudly, he called up, "Sweetsparks, Papa's home!"

For a second, there was silence. And then came loud sounds of clanging and banging as doors were hastily opened and the sounds of eight sets of pedes came stampeding down the hallway and to the stairs.

"Papa!"

The cry was wrung around the entrance hallway as eight frames moved toward one of their creators, tackling him in a massive group hug. Jazz laughed, never tiring of the enthusiasm of his creations whenever he or Prowl came home. It was practically tradition for one of them to take a flying leap at them whenever they came back. With Jazz part performing and also being a saboteur in helping the Praxus Enforcers, his schedule could be a little erratic at times. Prowl, meanwhile, had more stability as Chief Enforcer of Praxus.

Jazz calmed down in his laughter, groaning, "Ok guys, let ya poor Papa up. How's all ya homework comin' along?"

Technostat, the second eldest of Prowl and Jazz's offspring, replied, "It's all good. I've finished my essay for Professor Starscream, and all I have to do is go over my notes for Professor Perceptor's class on higher order mainframe facilities. And everyone else has been good too." Technostat was the first mech in the family, resembling Prowl with his frame type. He was mostly black with grey plating here and there, with a red chevron and black doorwings. He was to graduate from the Praxus Academy in science and general technology within the next vorn. However academic he may be, he still had Jazz's cheeky streak in him.

"Thanks, Tech. Ya know how much ya Father 'n' Ah appreciate ya looking after ya siblin's when we can't be here," said Jazz, rubbing his son's chevron affectionately after standing up. He was rewarded with a smile.

"So, what do we have ta do b'fore Harmony 'n' Father git home?" asked Darkrider, leaning against his twin, Lightshock. They were the third and fourth creations and had inherited Jazz's thick Polyhexian accent and had managed to make it even thicker by the way they spoke. Darkrider was the master prankster, black with a white chevron, but no doorwings, and small patches of blue plating on his frame. Lightshock looked exactly like him, only he was white with a black chevron and a few patches of yellow. While he often joined his twin on pranks, he was more academic of the two and got higher scores in the Academy where they were studying to continue Jazz's line of work in being a saboteur.

"We already have the decorations up," pointed out Crossfire, white chevroned helm perking up shyly. The fifth creation, light, pale grey with Prowl's body type and a bright red flame decal on her chestplating, she had just entered the Academy to study the history of Cybertron. It was her dearest wish to become one of the guardians of the new Allspark. The most quiet and unassuming of her siblings, her ways took after Prowl.

Jazz nodded at her and shrugged, "What else? Ya gotta give me somethin' to do."

"Energon is ready, trays are set out. Mirage and Hound ask that we have them back within the next decacycle," stated Vires. Prowl and Jazz's sixth creation, he almost did not make it out into the world. It was his difficult separation that meant Prowl could never bear another sparklet. He looked most like a perfect combination of Prowl and Jazz – sensory horns, red chevron, doorwings, and retractable visor, and white and black plating. His frame was a perfect balance of the two colours, as if to showcase how his creators reflected each other. He was in his last year of attending the Cybertronian equivalent to high school.

Jazz continued to smile at his creations, taking in their satisfied and beaming faceplates. Looking fondly upon them all, he asked, "So you guys already took care of everythin'? As a gift to me 'n' ya father?"

Sonata, the 7th creation, nodded, "Yeah Papa. And I've got a new song to sing to you and father." Sonata was named after Jazz's carrier, and inherited Jazz's musical ability to the extent that it is almost too natural. She is one with her music, and both Prowl and Jazz are proud of her. She is looking at becoming one of the youngest musical stars of Cybertron. Modelled after Jazz's carrier and looking mostly like Jazz, she has black plating with splashes of blue and white, and has a blue star painted on the sides of each sky blue optic. However, as well as having the sensory horns, she also has Prowl's crimson chevron adorning her black helm.

"Nice one Sonata, spoil the surprise," said her younger sibling, Feverpitch, who had crossed her arms. Impulsive, reckless, yet fiercely loyal, Feverpitch (known as Feva), was created in such a way that she suited her name. Black and white plating with sensory horns, she bore a thick red stripe from her neck to abdomen, and red doorwings. Prowl also tutored her in tactics, meaning she has a method she uses when she is being impulsive. The youngest in the Cybertronian equivalent of high school, she stands up for those who she finds being bullied.

"Aw, Feva, it's all right. Ah'm sure Prowl and Ah will be surprised anyway," soothed Jazz, laying a hand on her sensory horns. He found that it was the best way to calm his youngest femmeling down.

"Papa?" came a soft voice.

Jazz turned to see his youngest, Norvan, reaching up to him in a classic pose of 'pick me up, please.' Jazz obliged, taking his youngest son into his arms and rubbing at the developing doorwings on his back. Norvran was only just out of his sparkling years and was in primary school and doing well, apart from his glitch. The coding of his spark had abruptly changed halfway through the carrying stage, and suddenly had the ability to triple change. Added to this, Ratchet and Wheeljack and their team had not been able to change the protoform completely in time, and so, every once and a while, if Novran felt overwhelmed or too stressed, he would glitch and crash. With doorwings, sensory horns, and a blue chevron, the youngest also inherited his creator's white plating, with a black and red stripe on each of his sides.

"When do ya think Harmony will get here, Papa?" the little youngling asked softly, cuddling into his creator's neck.

"Well, ya know she's busy 'n' all being the tactical advisor the Prime in Iacon. And ya remember what Ah said 'bout Iacon didn't ya?" asked Jazz, making his way to the spacious kitchen and living area, carrying his youngest securely in his arms.

"It's north 'n' east of Praxus, where we live, an' is real busy," replied Novran dutifully.

Jazz nodded, "Yup. And she left earlier today, cos Uncle Optimus let me know he let her off, so she should be here with Dynamo within the joor."

"So father will be home soon?" asked Sonata to clarify.

Jazz nodded again, "Yup. Now until then, Ah wanna heard what ya all did today."

As the ex Autobot TIC settled in on one of the many couches (they couldn't completely give up Earth customs in some respects), chatter burst forth from his youngling's mouths. For Jazz, it was one of the highlights of everyday to find out how his and Prowl's sparklings developed in day to day life.

"We tended to our Crystal garden," piped up Crossfire.

"We played a prank on P'fessor Tunnelire," grinned Lightshock, bumping fists with Darkrider. Jazz was tempted to both frown and grin at that.

"I received the top grade in mathematics," said Vires proudly.

"Miss Moonracer let us do art today," said Novran, curling into Jazz's side.

"Armourhold was picking on Compass again, so I taught him a lesson," shrugged Feva. Jazz did frown at her, but she protested, "I didn't hit him. I just…embarrassed him."

"Ah'll ask later," warned Jazz.

Sonata was about to add her event for the day when the sound of their front doors opening with a soft swish floated into the living room. All of the siblings looked at each other, grinning, before jumping up and yelling happily, "Father! Father's home!"

Jazz stayed where he was, sitting on the couch with a big grin on his face as he heard a faint, "Ooof!" followed by, "Dearsparks, it is illogical to _glomp_ me every time I come home." Jazz shook his helm in amusement. Prowl said that most of the time, but there was never any inflection in his tone to denote he never wanted to be greeted like that. The visored mech waited patiently for his family to re-join him, smiling brightly when Prowl came into his sight.

In all their years together, Prowl had not diminished in how handsome and dignified he managed to look. Their passion for each other had never dwindled – and was especially evidenced by the overall happiness of their sparklings and the fact they had needed a soundproofed master bedroom. Prowl smiled softly at him and stepped free of the embraces of his younglings, stepping forward to pull Jazz up into a gentle kiss.

"Ew!" chorused their younger offspring, while Technostat, Darkrider, Lightshock and Crossfire smirked.

Ignoring the exclamations, Prowl dipped his bondmate back, kissing him deeper, smiling into the kiss, before pulling back and saying, "Happy anniversary Jazz."

"Happy anniversary to you too, Prowler," replied Jazz, giving him one last peck before straightening up and looking at their offspring. The Chief enforcer looked around the room, taking in all the signs of his children's hard work, before turning back to them and smiling at them.

"Thank you dearsparks. It means a lot to me and Jazz," he said softly in his smooth tenor.

"Aw, shucks Father, all we did was put up a couple o' decorations," grinned Darkrider.

"Nevertheless," stated Prowl, moving away to put his enforcer weapons in the storage locker in the basement. Only he and Jazz could access the vault, full of weaponry and other war time objects from their days as the Autobot's. They were still Autobot's, but had chosen to live a more civilian lifestyle. When he returned, Prowl found that his and Jazz's eldest offspring, Harmony, had arrived in the time he had put away his weapons and badge, and all of his other younglings were crowded around the mature femme in excitement.

Reflecting on his eldest daughter, Prowl could not help but be reminded of the unconventional way that he and Jazz had finally realised their love. And looking on the domestic, family scene, Prowl could honestly say that this is where his spark felt most at ease, with his family around him.

Harmony herself was vastly different to her siblings in that she was all white in her colouring, the only other hint of colour was the sky blue of her optics and a bit of dove grey here and there where her protoform metal or wires was not covered by plating. She was a carbon copy of Jazz's frame, but in a more 'femme' shape, and had Prowl's doorwings. It gave her a bit of an angel look. With a processor as sharp as Prowl's and with Jazz's social butterfly nature, her job as Prime's advisor is suited to her.

"Hello Father," Harmony greeted, turning her smile upon Prowl.

"Happy sparkday, Harmony," Prowl returned, stepping forward to give her a warm hug. He had not seen his eldest creation for a while.

Stepping back, the Praxian moved to clap Dynamo, his daughter's sparkmate and son of Ratchet and Wheeljack, on the shoulder in greeting, before moving on to Jazz and wrapping an arm around his bondmate's waist affectionately.

"So…everyone, dig in to the goodies and let the energon flo', isn't this a celebration?" announced Jazz, grinning broadly and leaning into Prowl's side, sending love and joy to him through their bond.

A while later, when all the celebrating was done, Sonata had sung her song to her delighted creator's, and the family was seated in a wide circle, Prowl and Jazz looked at each other, secretive smirks on their faces.

"Guys, ya Father and Ah have an announcement to make. And Harmony, we're kinda sorry cos we're going to be raining on your parade a bit, but we thought that today'd be the best time to tell ya all," began Jazz, clearing his intakes as he talked. Prowl just leaned into his mate's shoulder, contented after a long day of being an enforcer.

"What?" Vires asked politely, his siblings and Dynamo all leaning forward in rapt anticipation.

"Well…we didn't tell you earlier because of our age and because of the difficulties in the past," Prowl said softly.

"But First Aid gave us the all clear a few days ago, and the good news is…Ah'm sparked again! Another femme, the 5th femme to round up the group of ten," Jazz finished excitedly, Prowl's optics taking a proud glint along with his own.

The room burst into chatter, asking them all sorts of questions of their creators, congratulations, excitement for yet another sibling to be accepted into their family. And Prowl and Jazz sat tranquilly amidst the excitement, contentment flowing in harmony through their sparks. They enjoyed the excited looks on their youngling's faceplates and felt blessed by Primus to be given such a diverse and yet harmonious brood.

"Wait a second," came Harmony's voice above the excited talking of her younger siblings. Her doorwings were twitching in a peculiar way, as if she was distracted. Dynamo cast her a half-nervous, half-excited look as she held her hand up for silence.

"Yeah sweetspark?" asked Jazz, canting his helm to the side.

"Well…sorry to rain on _your_ parade, but," Harmony took Dynamo's hand in her own, smiling up at the white and green medic, "Dynamo confirmed it before we came here..."

"...I'm with spark too."

And Prowl, upon hearing his eldest daughter's statement, abruptly crashed.

* * *

><p><em>Later...<em>

"Prowler."

"Jazzy…come on, overload for me love."

"P-prowl-er-er."

With gasping cries, the couple overloaded in simultaneous completion. Jazz's forehelm resting upon his bondmate's, visor up and damaged optics unshielded to Prowl's optics. It was night, they were in their berthroom celebrating the union of their sparks and of conceiving, yet again, another sparklet. Prowl took large intakes to cool himself down from their lovemaking, gently grasping Jazz's hips which were astride his own, lifting his love off his now limp spike as they reached the third overload for the night.

It was moment's like these that the Enforcer was glad he and Jazz had gotten their room extra soundproofed when they first constructed their modern Cybertronian home in a restored Praxus.

Jazz settled next to him, not caring for their fluids or the searing heat of their plating.

"Ya know, it was pretty funny when you crashed earlier today," Jazz mused mildly.

Prowl snorted slightly, "Pain in the diodes for me though."

Jazz smirked, "Ah still think it was funny. Ah never thought you'd crash because ya found out ya daughter was sparked."

"It was sudden…can you blame me?" Prowl asked, letting Jazz snuggle closer. Over the years he had been with Jazz, he had found it easier to allow touch, and especially touches from the saboteur.

"No…Ah blame that computer," replied Jazz, laying a hand on Prowl's chestplates, feeling the pump of the spark that was his and his alone. Prowl dropped a kiss on a sensory horn and turned on his side so he and Jazz were face to face. He took the hand from his chest and kissed the obsidian fingers, conveying through the bond a thread of calm. For Jazz had a habit of getting mad when he thought of science mechs using Prowl as a test subject for one of the first battle computers. It worked, and Jazz calmed.

"Have you thought of any names?" asked Prowl quietly. In the resulting silence, Prowl took a moment to just feel. Feel the silken sheets under him on the berth, the light wind coming in through a partially open window, Jazz's plating against his own. And the soft gaze of those treasured, yet defective optics that Prowl had never found himself to see as defective.

"Ah always think of the names Prowl," chided Jazz softly.

"Not always…I thought of Novran, Vires and Technostat," protested Prowl softly, frowning softly.

Jazz merely sent a wave of relaxation and calm to Prowl in response, before saying, "Those were mech names. Ah've named all the femme's so far. Ah think it's time for you to. Would be really amazin' for me to see what ya think about our new sparklet." His tone was gentle and loving, a tone he only ever used on Prowl or when his younglings were hurt and needed support.

Prowl thought hard about it, going over thousands of names in the span of minutes, but none seeming quite right. He stared into the distance, going through another list of names that was created by a noun and a verb. He tossed it around in his processor. It felt…_right_. As with every other name he and Jazz had come up with, there was a rightness about this name.

"Freedreamer," he said softly into the still air.

The slightly smaller black and white drawled, equally as soft, "Freedreamer…Freedreamer…Ah like it."

'_It feels right,'_ Prowl said over their bond.

'_It does_," Jazz acknowledged. He then yawned, intakes hissing as he did so.

"Tired?" Prowl asked aloud, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah. Crowd was crazy 'bout me though," replied Jazz, wrapping his arms around his bondmate and moving in even closer and began to initiate his recharge sequence. Prowl chuckled softly, before doing the same as his lover and enveloping Jazz in his own arms.

'_I love you, for forever and a day,_' Prowl's loving thought echoed through the bond.

'_And Ah love you, until all are one,'_ Jazz replied.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I realise that a lot of this chapter was a bit unwieldy because I was trying to tell you all about Prowl and Jazz's kids. But I do hope you review all the same. Did you get rotten teeth from the sugary sweetness of this? I wouldn't be surprised if you did.**

**And yes…this is the end! But don't worry, there is a sequel which will be a collection of one-shots. Look out for it, it will be called, "**_**Family is forever**_**." **

**Thank you to all my reviewers: Femme4jack (FROM THE VERY BEGINNING!), Blackbeautystealer13, yume95, Psyche102, TFJazz, DarkDanc3r, Sideslip, Forever Dreaming Grace, Gatekat, _Christina_ (anon), White Aster, bbfan7410, RAVen05, naggingfishwife, alalaya2, Seeker Moonblade, Steelcrash, Reailty Obscured, firebird234, TheCrazyGirlNextDoor103, kyleisdabest, nerwenadanedhel, Ayami1, ShiTiger, Bunnystar12, I heart Soundwave, royaldigitalknight, SomebodyStandingThere, Lucijune, MissCHSparkles, Fantasy Forest, Trickster91, LiYaNa1995, Mizz Arcee, Kaekokat, and Got Buttermilk. **

**THANK YOU ALL. (And if I have happened to forgotten your name in this rather extensive list, I am sorry. Still love you all!)**


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